CIA Training Camp
by ckathc
Summary: CIA initiate Tris must prove herself in training to become an agent. Will her friends make it through? Will the mysterious instructor Four get her too distracted? AU, no war, focuses on FourTris relationship, mostly mirrors first book.
1. Welcome to the Company

I look around, surveying the group of people with me in the conference room this morning. There are nearly twenty of us, a roughly even mix of men and women, all appearing to be in their early twenties like me. I wonder if everyone is fresh out of undergrad like I am. We sit, in silence, waiting for somebody - anybody - to show up and tell us what's going on. That is, it was silent, until a girl dressed in only black and white starts to talk.

"Hi! I'm Christina. It was so much work to actually get in this place. I swear I think I got lost in the same place twice just trying to find the bathroom," the girl apparently named Christina jokes. At least, I hope she's joking. Fuck, she's looking at me. Am I supposed to talk with her? I guess I could use a friend to go through training with.

"I'm Tris. Maybe you can show me the way later." I make myself smile in an effort to be friendly. It's hard for me.

I attended school far away from my small, midwestern hometown, desperate to get away from the monotony of the "everybody knows everybody" environment. I wanted to disappear into a sea of students, so I ended up choosing a large public university on the east coast. I finished school with a degree in social work at the urging of my parents. At my school's career fair, I stopped by the CIA booth just for fun. I figured, if nothing else, I needed to at least get rid of a few more of the resumes I had printed. Little did I know that the recruiter, Tori, really liked me. I ended up getting a call at the end of the week. They wanted to begin the interviewing process for a position without any description. Even though I had no real interest to begin with, I quickly realized I was far more interested in this opportunity than any other I had been contacted about so far. So I agreed. After a few months and rounds upon rounds of interviews, aptitude testing, and physical testing, I was told to be at this location at this time in Langley, Virginia to meet the others who had passed the preliminary screenings like I had. Other than that, I have no idea what's happening today.

Before Christina had the chance to talk to me again, two new figures entered the room. Both the man and woman were covered head to toe in layers of black clothing. Even through the layers, you could tell they carried their weight in muscle. I looked down at my grey pants and lighter grey cardigan and suddenly felt very self-conscious, like a kindergarten teacher being stared down by a marine. My head snaps up as the man introduces himself to the room.

"Welcome to training. I'm Four - "

"Like the number?" interrupts Christina with an incredulous look on her face. Four stalks over to her, leaning down so their faces are nearly touching.

"Precisely like the number. Is that a problem, initiate?" his voice quiet.

Christina doesn't speak, just shakes her head. I don't think she could have gotten words out if she tried. I would have thought she peed her pants from that stare if I hadn't known she'd already been to the bathroom. Four seems satisfied with Christina and heads back to the front of the room.

"And this is Lauren," he continues, as if nothing had happened. "You've all completed the basic screenings the company puts forth. For your information, we started with over 100 initiates in your group. There are 18 of you left. By the end of training, we typically see ten initiates move on to become members. We do not remove initiates from our program, but you are free to

leave at any time. If you want to leave after today, you will need to file some paperwork with Tori, our lead recruiter." Four looks around the room at the stoic faces of my initiate class. "This training program will last four months. You will be housed here, fed here, and train here. These people sitting with you are your family now. Best get to know each other." With that, Four walks to the back of the room. Lauren addresses us now.

"You'll be training in two separate groups; family of CIA members train with me and transfers with Four. Split up."

I get up slowly, looking at the others in the room. We are all glancing around at each other, almost as if we aren't sure if this is real. I start toward the back of the room and find myself somewhat relieved when I see Christina walking beside me. At least I know someone. After a few moments, the groups are divided. About two-thirds stand with Lauren at the front of the room and the remaining third is with Four at the back. Before I have any more time to observe, Four speaks again.

"Alright, transfers. Let's take a tour of the facility."

We walk through the central Pit, training rooms, bathrooms, and end at the initiate dorms. Christina and I choose to room together. Initiate dorms are set up as several bedrooms sharing a small living space and bathroom, something that's at least vaguely familiar from college. Once again, I'm thankful Christina's here with me. We may not know each other, but she has a nice presence. On his way out, leaving us here to sort out rooms, Four tells us to meet him at one of the training rooms tomorrow morning at 6.

"Six!? In the morning?" Christina exclaims. I can tell from the look on her face she knew it was the wrong thing to open her mouth as soon as it happened. Lucky for her, all she gets is a stare down from Four before he leaves us. The rest of the day is a blur as we all get settled in the dorms.

Later that evening, we all introduce ourselves in our common room with all 18 initiates. The first to go is a short, muscular man with dark tan skin and nearly shaved black hair.

"Hey everybody, I'm Uriah! I'm from Virginia, my parents and my brother work here too," he says a way to explain his home state. This boy can't stop smiling. "Oh! And I, uh, just graduated from USC."

Next to him, the tall, thin boy with wavy blonde hair I recognize as a transfer introduces himself. "I'm Will, a transfer. I'm from New Jersey. I got my bachelor's degree in electrical engineering this past spring." I already think I'll like Will. He seems nice enough but not too friendly. Kind of like me.

A few more people go before it's my turn. I try and remember their names - Peter, Lynn, Al, Marlene - but there is no way I'm remembering everything about everyone here. Especially if half of them won't be here in four months. When it's my turn to introduce myself, I do my best to be brave. People aren't my strong suit. "I'm Tris, I'm a transfer. I'm from Michigan. I studied social work in school." I think I make out a quiet call of "stiff" from one of the boys that's already gone. I want to roll my eyes at the term.

Next is Christina. "Hi! I'm Christina, my fellow transfers already know me as Four's chew toy," That gets a few laughs from the transfers. "I'm 22, I'm from Portland, and I studied psychology at Northwestern," she finishes with a smile. A few more people finish up introductions before we all split off to find dinner.

Christina and I get to talk more as we make our way to the Pit. "So where are you from again?" she asks.

"I'm from Michigan"  
"Yeah but where? I went to school in Chicago, I'm a little familiar with Michigan," she replies.

"Oh, uh, just a little farming town. I don't think you'd know it. Abnegate?" I say, almost as if it's a question.

"Okay, yeah, I guess you're right." Christina leaves it at that. "So how'd you end up here?"

We each go through the abridged version of our respective stories by the time we get food at the cafeteria-style tables in the Pit. I'm looking around for somewhere to sit, but all I see are a few empty spots by Four and Lauren. Whatever, I think to myself. He can't actually be that bad. I nudge Christina to show her I found seats and we make our way over. I smile to Four and he nods in acknowledgment.

It's more awkward than I thought. I try and break the silence by talking to Four since it's obvious Christina won't.

"Hi Four. I'm Tris, this is Christina. We're both transfers," I offer. He glances at me. What the hell, I'll try again.

"Are you a transfer or is your family here?" I ask.

A low, steady voice replies, "What makes you think you can talk to me?" His dark blue eyes, almost like an ocean, distract me from feeling the embarrassment I'm sure his comment was supposed to have brought. Christina elbows me, bringing me back to this awkward reality.

"Must be because you're so approachable," I snap back. All he does is nod at me again with a little smirk. This better not be a "thing" he does. That's going to get irritating, very quickly.

The silence between us isn't so awkward anymore. Christina and I talk throughout dinner and I find that I'm really beginning to like her. I admire her outspokenness. Eventually, long after the departure of Four and Lauren, we make our way back to the dorms. After getting to know other transfers a bit more, we get ready for bed, anxious to be well-rested for our first day of training, whatever it is, tomorrow.

 **Author's Note:**

 **It's my first fic in a long time, please let me know what I can do to improve! I can't wait to explore more about Four and Tris's relationship.**


	2. Marksmanship

I wake before my alarm sounds. As I get dressed, careful not to wake Christina, the silence encourages my thoughts. What have I gotten myself into? CIA training? I'm not a CIA agent. I can't fight and shoot and act and scheme. For fuck's sake, I studied social work the past four years. Four years of boredom, the thought interrupting my own thoughts. I shake my head, trying to get rid of the idea that I don't belong. Is this what I want? I'm deciding the path of my life, do I really want one of secrecy? Of covert operations, government secrets, and intelligence reconnaissance? I already know the answer.

As I move to the bathroom, I realize that there was no possibility of me enjoying life as a practicing social worker. I studied the subject that made my parents proud of me. The public servant, Tris. The perfect daughter, Tris. It's how I coped with leaving them. If I was going to move across the country, at least I could make them proud. I can't even imagine what they would say if they knew I was training to be in the CIA. Hardly a public servant if I'm hunting down enemies of the state, am I?

I'm getting ahead of myself. For all I know, their ideal position for me is filing travel reimbursement paperwork. I need to calm down before meeting everyone for breakfast before training. I smooth my hair into a low bun, something to tame my long blonde hair for training today. We were told to dress for athletics, so I wore a pair of black leggings, running shoes, and a high-neck long-sleeve shirt. I felt a bit exposed in such form-fitting attire, so I decided to go back to my room to grab a light jacket before heading to the Pit. Hey, maybe I'll run into Christina and we can go together then.

"Hey! I thought you left without me! When did you wake up? How did you wake up? I didn't even hear you leave." All of this spills out of Christina's mouth as if not talking the past few hours was a personal torture imposed by unconsciousness.

"Um. I don't know, just eager I guess. Want to go get breakfast?" I ask.

"Yes! One sec," she replies, turning to her closet. Before I knew what was going on, Christina, who had appeared to be dressed and ready, slipped off her shirt and was reaching for the clasp on her bra before I could look away. Blushing, I stutter something about waiting outside and hope she gets the message. Maybe a minute later, she emerged from our room, laughing. "Does my being topless bother you, Tris?" she giggles.

How do I explain this? "Uh, no, just uh, unexpected?" I feel like such a prude. I zip my jacket up higher. My conservative upbringing really shines through in moments like these. In Abnegate, we were never exposed to bodies - not even through hugging, let alone seeing a girl I met yesterday topless. Sensing my discomfort, Christina lets it go with an understanding nod. We make our way to the Pit with Will and Al, who it turns out are also rooming together. Breakfast was uneventful, but I could feel my nerves getting the best of me as I picked at a muffin and some grapes.

The four of us make our way up to the training room specified by Four the previous day, seeing most of the other transfer initiates there. We're early, and we wait for the few stragglers and Four to start our instruction. The room looks mostly empty, except for some cabinets and targets. Targets?

"Today we start physical conditioning." Four's sudden appearance interrupts my train of thought. "In this first stage of training, we move toward hand-to-hand combat. This morning, we're starting with marksmanship."

As Four moves toward one of the cabinets against the wall, I see what looks like the ends of a tattoo peeking out from under the collar of his shirt. He's dressed differently today than he was yesterday. More athletic, like us. If I thought he looked strong before...

As Four distributes the hand guns, one boy, the one I think called me a stiff the day before, yawns. Not subtly, either. Before I can even process what's happening, Four has ripped the gun out of the boy's hand and has it at the boy's head.

"You're holding a loaded gun, idiot. Act like it," Four calmly states. He hands the gun back to the boy - Peter, I think - and resumes handing out guns. All I can do is glance at Christina, who is already looking at me with wide eyes. When he finishes, we're all directed to stand in front of different targets. He gives us a brief demonstration on what it is we're to be doing before letting us try.

I fire three rounds, none of them hitting the target. Oh no, I think to myself, what have I gotten myself into. Looking around, I see most of the targets along the wall have a few holes in them, even if they're not in the center.

The rest of the morning is spent shooting, and I'm quite pleased that I've managed to consistently hit some part of the target. Four dismisses us for lunch after collecting our handguns, telling us to meet him in another training room in an hour. When it's my turn to give him my gun, I'm struck again by the depth in those ocean eyes.

"Nice improvement today, Tris." Four's words are so sudden and quiet that I'm hardly sure he even spoke to me.

"Thank you," I whisper in reply.

Jogging to catch up with Christina and Will who are one their way to the Pit, I think about my excitement at the morning. I shot a gun! A gun! I've never even seen a gun before today, and now I can kind of shoot one. What a way to start the day.

Lunch is a quiet affair for me. I don't feel like talking much, thought the others at our table are chatting amiably about our morning. It turns out Will has shot before, he was on a rifle team in high school. As I readjust my hair back into a tight bun, the tall transfer initiate, Al, is telling me about how Four stood behind him for at least fifteen minutes when he was starting to shoot. Apparently this intimidated Al so much that he was only able to hit the target four times. I want to laugh, but Al looks serious. Hm. Glancing at my watch, I realize it's almost time to go.

When we get to the new training room, Four is already here. As I look around, I realize this would almost look like a gym, if it weren't for the giant scoreboard hanging on the wall with our names on it. Will elbows me, pointing at it, the question present in his face though he doesn't dare voice it. All I can do is shrug - I don't know why it's there either.

Four's commanding voice cuts through the silence of the room when he says, "Now we work on maintaining and improving your physical fitness. Everyone will start on punching bags today. Follow me."

And we do. Filing over to the line of bags, we watch Four demonstrate proper form. Slowly, he shows us how to properly attack the bag, the angle of approach for different punches, and how to balance as you kick. We're dismissed to individual bags as Four walks around helping us.

I have never tried to punch something in my life. Recalling Four's posture, I try and mimic it with little success. Ignore the laughing, Tris, I tell myself. Fucking Peter. Thinking of him and punching his silly little face, I attack the bag again. To my surprise, this time it swings.

"You don't have much strength." That smooth, steady voice catches me off guard. I catch Four's eyes and wait for him to continue. "Try using your knees and elbows. You'll have more power there."

He moves closer to me, adjusting my stance. Has he always been this tall? I mean, I know I'm short, but my head barely comes to his armpit. Four nods at me to demonstrate my new form. To my surprise, the bag swings again. Smiling, I turn back to Four, who has once again moved back closer to me.

"Remember to keep tension here," he says as he places his hand against my abdomen, fingers spread wide. His hand covers my entire stomach. If I couldn't place the feeling I had before when looking into his eyes, I certainly can now. His hand lingers a little longer than it should have. It seems he realizes this; Four removes his hand quickly averts his eyes from mine and moves on to the next initiate. I feel a blush spreading over my already-warm face. Shit. All I can do is practice more, Peter's stupid face encouraging my elbows and knees until we're dismissed.

All I want is dinner and a shower, so I decline Christina's offer of going shopping for an outfit to wear to a party she's somehow already been invited to over the weekend. Deciding that a shower sounds better than food at the moment, I make my way back to the initiate dorms for the first time in more than twelve hours.

Standing in the shower, I realize for the first time that my knuckles are swollen and bruised. Wow. I guess I was going pretty hard today. I examine my elbows and knees next, knowing that I spent most of the afternoon abusing those joints, but there is only slight bruising. It makes me feel weak and powerful at the same time knowing my body could handle this. I'd never really worked out like this before. Normally, I just run a few times a week. This is really working different muscle groups than I ever have before. Taking my time in the shower, I rub my neck and wash my body. I'm startled by the memory of Four's hand on my abdomen as my own takes the same spot as I wash myself. All I can think of is that hand moving all over my body and how nice that would be. Blushing again, I cut off my thoughts. I cannot think about my instructor like this - how inappropriate! But the memory of his strong, expansive hand over my body returns. Ugh. Okay, time to get out of the shower!

I eat dinner alone, content to have a bit more time to myself. Returning to my room, I lay in bed and read a book while I wait for the exhaustion to take over my mind. I can't shake the eagerness to see what I'll be doing tomorrow, but it feels like my body is pleading with me to take it easy. My shoulders are sore, my hands are sore, even my hips are sore. I set my alarm for the morning, knowing this time I'll really need it.


	3. Party

Shooting, punching, and running become our daily routine here. By the end of my first week, I am thoroughly exhausted. I can't wait to indulge in a slice of cake at dinner, Christina better have saved me a seat. It's become a routine for me to shower right after training. I find I like the solitude it brings. If there's anything that's been hard to adjust to, it's the constant socializing. All I want is a weekend in bed, but I'm not foolish enough to think that'll happen this weekend.

As I enter the Pit, my eyes scan the place for Christina, Will, and Al, but I find Four instead. He's actually sitting with people today, a first for this week, at least that I've seen. I recognize Lauren, the other instructor, sitting with him along with a few other people I don't know. Before I realize I've been staring, Four's eyes look up and meet mine. I look away and I'm sure I'm blushing. Oh, there are my friends! Friends? Have I already made friends? I think about this as I make my way over to the table I spotted my fellow transfer initiates at. Friends. That would be nice.

"Hey Tris! We are going shopping tonight - no getting out of it this time! I've seen your closet. You need me," Christina states rather factually. Fine. I guess I could maybe use some help in the style department, so I agree.

"Yay! We'll find you the perfect thing to wear to the party -"

"Party?" I interrupt.

"Yes, party. I mentioned it a few days ago. You're totally coming. You see Lynn over there, the girl sitting with the other initiates? No, that's Marlene - her! Short hair, tan skin near the end of the table - yeah, that's Lynn. Anyway, her sister works here and she's throwing a party at her apartment tonight."

"A member is throwing a party? I'm not sure that's a good idea, Chris," I say with reservation, already knowing my concerns are not shared.

"Come on, Tris. It'll be fun. We can actually meet people who work here and find out what it is exactly they do. Well, you can do that, I'll be busy finding free liquor and available lips to kiss," she says, throwing a wink toward Will. Will? When did that happen? I make a mental note to ask her about that later.

"Alright, I'll come," I agree.

"Awesome! Let's hurry up and eat then because we need all the time we can get to shop. Something tells me you're going to be picky."

I let that comment slide, trying to enjoy my slice of cake before being whisked away to the shops just outside the Pit.

Just a few minutes later, Christina and I leave our group to go to the shops. The first place we go has mannequins on display wearing all sorts of clothes with one commonality: they're all black. I could get used to black. Chris leads me straight to a rack of clothes and immediately starts scouring the racks as if she already has something in mind.

"What exactly are you looking for?" I ask, genuinely curious.

"I'm trying to find a high-neck long sleeve lace shirt. You can wear high-waisted black jeans and a cute little bralette. Cute, contemporary, and conservative enough for you to feel comfortable. What do you think?" she asks, anxious to hear what I have to say.

"How about I promise to try it on and then we'll see?"

"Deal."

As it turns out, a see-through shirt was not my favorite. We settled on the high-waisted black jeans and a black short sleeved crop top with what's called a mock neck, I learned. I was shocked to see that I liked how I looked in this outfit. Not normally one for crop tops, I was nervous when Christina handed it to me. But putting it on, oh my, I looked good. The little strip of skin showing on my stomach turned my straight frame into something that almost looked like an hourglass. I felt like a woman. Christina was pretty happy I actually agreed to wear it. She found an outfit too, a short dress with cutouts I would never dream of wearing. She looked good in it. Confident. I need to remember that for the party tonight, even if I can just feign confidence, it'll help.

"Ah! Tris! We're gonna be late, we have to go!" Christina shrieks.

"What are you talking about?"

"Hair and makeup, Tris. Hair and makeup!"

Of course. When we reach our room, I quickly dress into my new outfit, as does Christina. I already refused full hair and makeup from her, so I use my time to try and do something with my hair. My usual bun looks too severe for this revealing outfit, but I don't know what else to do with it. I sigh, and just unravel my bun to let my hair fall. It's wavy from being tied up all day, and I think it might be pretty. That, or it looks like I just woke up. Hm.

"Christina -"

"Oh my gosh, Tris, your hair is so cute like that! You should do that more! How'd you style it so quick?" she asks with a hint of an accusatory tone. Well, I guess my internal hair debate is settled.

I watch Christina get ready, applying her eyeshadow and lipstick. She really does look beautiful. She sees me watching and offers some mascara, which I accept.

"Wow. You look..." Christina trails off.

"Don't tell me I look pretty. I do not look pretty."

"Striking. You look striking." she says with determination.

Striking... I do look striking. The harsh black against my soft grey eyes and blonde hair sets off my features. I may not be pretty, but Christina's right. I look striking.

Luckily, it's time for us to head over to Lynn's sister's place. What's her name again? "Who's apartment are we going to?" I ask.

"Shauna's. Lynn's sister is Shauna," Will chimes in. When did he join up with us? I don't get a chance to ask, Will and Christina are already talking about something else.

I can hear the music as we approach the door to Shauna's place. I've never really been one for parties, even in college. I don't really get the appeal of gathering in a house to get drunk with a bunch of strangers. Before we go in, Christina leans over to whisper in my ear, "Text me when you leave, alright? And I'll text you when I go. Gotta be safe." I smile and nod, then open the door.

Straightaway, I'm appalled by the sheer number of people that are in this apartment. The second thing I notice is that I only recognize a couple people. My little group of three heads over to go meet Lynn. I recognize the people she's with as initiates, but I don't recall their names. As Lynn and Christina talk, the boy with tan skin and short, black hair introduces himself as Uriah.

"Hey! Cool you could come. I'm Uriah, I'm an initiate too. Shauna's my brother Zeke's girlfriend, they're a few years older than us," he tells me with a smile. "This is Marlene and that's Lynn, Shauna's little sister."

"Nice to meet you, I'm Tris."

"Tris, huh? You're one of Four's initiates aren't you?" asks the person I can only assume to be Zeke, giving Uriah a noogie. Wow they look alike.

"Yep, I'm a transfer. Nice to meet you too, Zeke," I reply. He seems content with bothering Uriah for the time being and walk away from us to mingle with his friends. I watch him leave, and to my surprise, he walks right over to Four. If I had to guess, I wouldn't have pegged Four as the party type, but he's here with a drink in hand.

Not really sure what to do, I weave my way through people over toward the wall of the apartment. I like to observe, it's interesting what you can learn just by watching people. I see Will and Christina dancing, I see Uriah pulling out all his party tricks, I even see Four laugh at something Zeke says. My line of vision is broken by a woman who takes up residence against the wall with me, offering me a bottle.

"Hi there. Want one?" she asks. She has a kind face.

"Sure, thank you," I reply as I take the bottle from her. Taking a sip, I remember why I don't drink beer. It's gross. Who wants to drink literal wheat? Give me a vodka cranberry any day over a beer.

"What do you think?" the woman asks me, gesturing with her bottle to the crowd before taking a swig.

"It's, uh, lively," I tell her. Lively. What kind of adjective is that for a CIA party? The woman laughs. "I'm Tris," I say, leaning in so she can hear me.

"Shauna," she offers. "Are you new here? I don't think we've met."

"Yeah, I'm an initiate. Lynn invited a few of us tonight, I hope you don't mind."

"Of course not! We need to get that new blood introduced to our dauntless ways," she declares. "Come on, I'll introduce you to some people."

I follow Shauna through the crowd, not really seeing another option. To my surprise, we end up back at Zeke again, who's talking with a few people. One of whom has a tattoo peeking out the collar of his shirt...

"Hey guys! This is Tris. She's an initiate," Shauna says by way of introduction to the group.

"Oh yeah, hey Tris!" Zeke smiles in acknowledgment. "We met earlier, my kid brother was talking to her. I figured I needed to save her." When I see Zeke's arm slide around Shauna's waist, I look away. Physical contact has always felt so intimate to me, something that should be reserved for private situations, not the middle of a party surrounded by friends.

"Zeke, if she didn't want to talk with Uriah, she would have told him. Very direct, this one," the smooth, stern voice says with a twinge of amusement. I recognize the voice without even needing to turn. Four. Something about this man just draws me to him. "How are you doing, Tris?"

"So now I'm allowed to talk to you?" I snap, remembering my first attempt at conversation with him just days before. Shauna and Zeke seem to find this funny, which earns them each a glare from Four. I'm feeling left out of the joke. The glare must have been their cue to move on, and they leave me with Four.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Four tells me, "For you, I'll make an exception." Those deep blue eyes meet mine again and it's like the world stops for a moment. "How are you liking the party? Not scaring you off the CIA life, is it?"

"Not at all. I think it's nice how close everyone is."

"Yeah, very close," he mumbles, gesturing toward the crowd of people. It takes me a moment, but I see Christina and Will joined at the mouth. That must be what Four's talking about. I groan.

"What, not a fan of smarty pants over there?" he asks. There's something in his face that gives away the fact he's joking with me.

"No, no, I like Will. It's just..." I trail off with a sigh. "Just what?"

"I don't want to listen to that tonight," the words rushing out of my mouth in an attempt to stem the inevitable blush. Glancing up at Four, I see he's blushing now too. Good.

"Ah," he says, rubbing his neck again.

Almost as if on cue, I get a text from Christina telling me she's leaving the party and having an adult sleepover at our place. Great. I just got ditched by my only friends, I'm hanging out with my instructor at a party, and I have nowhere to go. I decide I need another drink.

"Where would I get another?" I ask Four, gesturing with my now-empty bottle. "Follow me."

He leads me to the kitchen where a selection of beers, liquor, and mixers are set out on the counter. Grabbing himself another beer, he tells me to help myself. I think back to that vodka cranberry I had thought of earlier and mix myself one. We fall into a comfortable silence with each other and our drinks. I like his presence. It's calming. We aren't alone long before Uriah comes running to find Four, eager to show him one of his party tricks.

"Uriah, I don't score you. Show Lauren," he states plainly.

"Ouch, Four. Can't I have a little favoritism here? You're Zeke's best friend," Uriah jokes. He must get the message, because he leaves.

The silence between me and Four feels forced now, so I mix another drink and tell him I'm heading out afterward.

"Where exactly are you planning on going? Didn't peg you for a voyeur," he says with a smirk.

I can't even hope to control the blush that spreads over my face and neck at that comment. I try and say something, but all I can do is stutter.

"Come on. I'm ready to go too," he tells me. My eyes go wide and my mouth gapes at the implication of what he just said. Four quickly backtracks. "No! No. You can, um, stay at my place if you want. I have a couch. I think your friends have already gone."

He's right. My friends have left, and I don't even want to think about trying to sleep in our common area tonight. Who knows what'll be happening in there. I agree to go with him and we leave Shauna's together.

"Thank you, Four," I say as I follow him through the compound.

"You're welcome. Something similar happened to me during my initiation," he says with a sly grin. "Zeke and Shauna have been Zeke and Shauna for a while now."

"Oh. Oh my."

"Yeah. My instructor, Amar, let me stay over at his place when that would happen."

"That's very kind of him." After a moment, I ask, "Have I met Amar?"

"No. He'll be at the initiation ceremony though."

We fall back into our comfortable silence as we make our way through the halls to Four's apartment. As we walk, I can't help but notice the way I can see new slivers of his tattoo as he walks, his shirt shifting slightly as he walks. I wonder what it is.

Four opens his door, guiding me in to his apartment. He quickly shows me the kitchen and bathroom. He grabs a pillow off his bed and a spare blanket from the closet and lays them on the bed. I'm caught off guard though when he sits on the couch.

"You can take the bed," he offers.

"No, really, the couch is fine,"

"Tris. I'm not playing the 'who is most stubborn' game with you. Take the bed. You need the rest." Well, unfortunately for me, that's a sound argument. Conceding, I thank him again and head to the bedroom.

"Goodnight, Tris," he whispers. Those eyes are killing me.

"Goodnight, Four," I say in a small voice, and I close his bedroom door.


	4. Weekend of Freedom

As I wake up, it takes me a moment to remember I'm not in my dorm. This bed is so comfortable, so inviting. The sheets are soft, the pillows are firm, and it smells like a man in a good way, not the sweaty way. Wait. What? Fuck. I'm in Four's bed. _I'm in Four's bed._

It didn't seem like a big deal last night, spending the night at my instructor's place, but this morning I'm realizing my feelings have quickly changed. I just slept in my instructor's bed. Granted, he wasn't in it, but that hardly feels important right now. Oh no. What do I say to Four, what do I say to Christina? Getting up, I listen at the door to see if Four is awake yet. I don't hear anything. Maybe I can just leave? Is that asking too much of the universe? I take a deep breath and open the door.

Where's Four? The couch is empty. It's then I recognize the sound of water running in the bathroom - he must be showering. _Oh._ That was the wrong thing to think about. Shaking my head to clear the thoughts, I look for a piece of paper in the kitchen, finding one easily. I write a simple "thank you", leave it next to the stove, and make my way back to my dorm.

When I get there, my room is empty, which is fine by me. It's midmorning, I missed breakfast at the Pit, but I'm not feeling particularly hungry. The only thing I want right now is to run, so I change and head to a training room. I run and run until my legs can't carry me any further.

In the evening, I meet up with Christina back at our room. Before I can ask a single question, Christina says, "Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry, where did you sleep last night? It totally slipped my mind that we didn't have anything set up. Oh, Tris, I'm sorry."

Uh, that's one question I don't want to answer right now. I redirect the conversation back to her, hoping my blush isn't too visible. "So, Will?" I ask with a smirk.

Now it's Christina's turn to blush. This is enough to get her talking for a bit about Will, how great and sensitive a guy he is, how he's sweet and smart. I'm happy for her, I really am, but I'm hoping they'll take some of their sleepovers to Will's in the future. Maybe not all of them though...

Before we sleep, Christina asks me again where I spent the night. I know I can't lie to her, but I can't tell her the whole truth either. "A guy at the party offered his couch," I volunteer. It's true! Or so I thought at the time.

"A guy! What guy?" she asks, animated once again. "Christina," I say firmly, "just a guy. Goodnight."

She mumbles something I can't make out and we flick out the lights. Good god, I can't wait for this day to be over.

In the morning, Al tells us over breakfast that he's getting a tattoo today. Chris chimes in and says she'll get one too. Will and I tag along, ready for some excitement this morning. I'm starting to feel the attraction of the adrenaline rush so many people here seek. Even living through someone else's tattoo is a big enough rush for me. Wow, I'm lame.

I recognize the tattoo artist at the parlor as being Tori, my recruiter. My recruiter who proctored my aptitude test.

 _I remember her explaining to me that day, as I sat down at the computer to take this glorified personality test, that there are five main traits the government recognizes in its citizens. The aptitude test could predict your success in different paths. Tori listed the traits off as dauntless, erudite, amity, abnegation, and candor. She explained to me that the test would outline situations and I would type in how I would respond in each. My answers would be screened by the program and I would get my result right after completion. She explained that though most CIA employees are dauntless, no one result would exclude me from continuing the interview process. Something tells me the amity aren't very popular here though._

 _When I finished my test, there was an error displaying my results. Did I imagine the fleeting look of terror on Tori's face? I wait as Tori manually reviews my answers and enters a result in the system._

" _Did I do something wrong?" I ask her. All I get is a tight-lipped shake of the head. "What did I get?" Tori won't look me in the eye. This can't be good. I got amity, didn't I?_

" _Tris...," Tori starts, finally looking at me. "You got abnegation. And erudite. And dauntless."_

 _"But I thought we only got one?"_

" _Most do. You're a special case, what we call divergent. Don't tell anyone - not your mom, not your best friend, not even your pet. I entered your result as abnegation and destroyed the electronic copy of your test."_

" _Why can't I tell anyone?"_

" _You are a threat to the system. You display complex understanding and processing that most of the population do not. You tell people, and you become a target. Now leave. We will not speak of this again." Tori turns from me, busying herself with the computer once again._

 _What the hell just happened. Was I just threatened by the CIA? No, it was more of a warning. A warning not to tell anyone about my true personality. Great, no pressure there._

On a bit of a whim, I decide to get a tattoo. Tori's presence here makes me brave, and I'm feeling reckless. Looking at the flash covering the walls, I pick out a bird. I share my tattoo idea with Christina - she chickened out of getting her own tattoo once she heard the buzzing of the machine during Al's.

Approaching Tori, I ask for three variations of the raven flash just under my collarbone, leaving my heart. All together, the stencil she lays on me can't be more than four inches long. The pain isn't as bad as Al's face made it look and the adrenaline rush from being stabbed repeatedly compares to nothing I've felt before. Christina even looks proud. By the time our group of four leaves the tattoo parlor, I'm hit with a wave of exhaustion like never before. I must be coming off my adrenaline high. I excuse myself and take the rest of the day to catch up on laundry and take a nap. I'm going to need my rest for the resumption of training tomorrow morning.


	5. Knives

"This morning we'll be working on our knife skills," Four's voice cuts through the training room. I may have gone to bed early last night, but this whole 6 am training thing is hard to get used to. I stifle a yawn, remembering what happened to Peter last Monday. A few snickers from Peter and his friends reach my ears, and apparently Four's. "We work with knives as they are a silent weapon," Four states. "You may think them outdated, but I find them effective and easily concealable. In hand-to-hand combat, a knife triumphs over a gun every time.

Four goes to a new cabinet and distributes what look like hunting knives to us all. They're heavy, but the weight feels good in my hand. The blades are sharp with serrations near the handle. The heel of the knife is substantial. I see why these are what we practice with. These are not your average knives, these are deadly weapons. He demonstrates proper throwing form, then leaves us to begin practicing. This feels different than the handguns we worked with last week - less mechanical, more intuitive to me. This is way more my speed. With the knives, I can feel the torque when I throw them, I can spin them how I want, I can change the throw just by moving my grip the slightest bit. Now I just need to work on getting the sharp end to hit the target.

"You're looking a little stiff, Tris!" Peter calls out to me. I roll my eyes and ignore him. Why would I be good at this? Who, other than ancient hunters and CIA initiates, practices throwing knives? Of course it's hard! I'd be worried if any of us were particularly good already.

This time, when I look around at the others' targets, they're about on par with me. About half of us have a target with a blade stuck in it. I try not to notice Four walking around us, observing us. The relative silence of the throwing makes it too easy for me to hear him talking to the others. I listen to his corrections of grip and release angle and apply them to my technique, releasing another knife from my grip. _Yes!_ It stuck.

I can't read Four's expression when he walks over to me. It's not neutral, but I can't quite place it. Angry? Frustrated? Disappointed? None of these make sense - I'm not that bad at throwing! Al hasn't even hit the target yet, let alone stuck one! Go glare at him, Four, I think to myself.

He watches me throw a few times before correcting me. I feel his broad hands on my shoulders as he moves me through the path of motion they should follow as I throw the knife.

"You left in quite the hurry," he says in my ear, nearly inaudibly. What is he talking about? I've been here the whole morning. I glance at him in confusion. "I got your note," he whispers again. Oh. I can't talk about this here, it's so quiet. There's too much to say. How do you tell your superior "Hey, thanks for not making me sleep in the hall while my roommate was fucking this guy, but then I slept in your bed and I liked it and I don't think it was very appropriate for me to like it and you're my instructor and this feels weird but good too"? No words come out of my mouth, but I let my knife fly instead and the tip sticks to the edge of the inner circle. Damn.

"Well done," Four says in a normal volume, and he moves on.

He comes back to me a few more times throughout the morning, but he doesn't try talking about Friday night again. Or rather, Saturday morning. I'm feeling pretty confident at the conclusion of morning training. Surveying the room once more before cleaning up, I notice that only a handful of boards are missing knives now. A few of us have managed to leave several stuck in the targets.

We meet up again after lunch, this time in a new training room. Christina, Will, Al, and I leave the Pit together to find it. We're all uneasy when we enter, seeing a central boxing ring. This can't be good. Some of the initiates look excited when they come in. Peter and a couple of his friends - Edward and Maya, maybe? Myra? - are even smiling. This time, Four doesn't enter the room alone. Along with him is a shorter man with bleached blonde hair and numerous piercings spanning his face. I don't like the way this man stares at us. I don't feel human under his gaze. Four introduces the man as Eric, the leader of the CIA training facility. We're all surprised to hear he's a leader, he hardly looks older than us.

"Today, you'll begin hand-to-hand combat training," Eric starts. "You've already focused on basic technique and now you'll get to learn the strategy behind fighting."

"We're fighting?" interrupts Christina. "Each other?" Her voice raises with a squeak.

"Exactly," replies Eric with a sadistic smile.

"You'll be randomly matched with another transfer every day this week. Next week, matches will be between all initiates, again at random," Four explains. "When I say to start, you start. You all know your strengths, play to them. Don't waste my time by going easy on your opponent. There will be no gloves, no pads, and no time limit. A winner will be determined when one fighter concedes or cannot continue."

"According to the old rules," Eric interjects. "Now, we fight until one fighter can't continue. A brave man never gives up."

"A brave man knows when he's outmatched."

"A brave man fights anyway." Eric and Four maintain eye contact, filling the room with tension at their exchange.

"We believe in ordinary acts of bravery, of courage in standing up for what's right."  
"And I believe I'm your superior. Fights end when one fighter is physically unable to continue."

With that, Eric turns from Four and begins writing on the dry erase board on the wall. Is Four actually clenching his jaw? It looks painful. What a way to kill that after-lunch joy. Too soon, we realize he is writing the pairs for fighting. Dread fills my stomach as I wait for my name to be written on the board. Please not Christina, please not Christina, please not Christina, I plead within myself. I can't bring myself to try and hurt my best friend here. I see Will and Al paired together, then I see Eric pair Christina with Molly. He leaves the board, but my name isn't on it. I look to Four, searching for an explanation. His faces tells nothing.

"We have an odd number of transfers; Tris, you're sitting out today," Eric addresses the group. Of course he doesn't know us. For all he knows, I'm Molly.

Four calls the first pair to the ring. The fight doesn't take long, a few punches in and the first initiate falls, unconscious. Four makes the victor of the fight take the other to the infirmary.

It kills me to sit and watch this. I want to participate. I want to help. I want to do anything but stand by and watch this senseless violence. During the second fight, with Al and Will, Four comes over and stands behind me.

"Watch their behaviors. You can predict what they'll do if you know the tell," the unmistakably smooth voice whispers. I nod, but don't turn around.

Listening to Four's advice, I watch the fight. It's hard to tell what to look for at first; all I see are my friends beating each other. Then I come to see that Al's default is to block - he's a defensive fighter. He just want's to outlast Will. Will keeps throwing punches to Al's torso. I know he can reach Al's head, it must just be a preference. I watch as Al throws his fist into Will's temple, sending him straight to the ground, body limp. Eric calls the fight. Will regains consciousness quickly after falling, but the verdict was called. Al looks disgusted as he hoists Will to his feet. He's hurt, but not bad enough to warrant a trip to the infirmary.

I watch the other fights, trying to distance myself from the initiates participating. I fail when it's Christina and Molly's turn to go. The fight is brutal. I can tell they're evenly matched - in skill, not physical size. Molly certainly has the advantage there. Whoever paired them together has a good eye. Molly lands blow after blow to Christina's head, but Chris powers through. She manages to knock Molly to the floor and even gets a few kicks in before Molly pulls her down too. Somehow Molly ends up on top of Christina, pinning her to the floor. I can't watch as Molly lands punches with alternating hands to Chris's face. I don't know how, but Chris is still awake.

I hear a wet voice yell, "I'm done! I'm done!" Wet? Oh, I realize, looking back to the ring, there's a lot of blood coming out of Chris's face. Her words must have caught Molly off guard because she stopped. Still on top of Christina, she turns to Eric, looking for an indication of what to do.

"You're done?" Eric asks.

"Yes," the wet voice pleads.

"You think you're done?" Eric is yelling now. He enters the ring and Molly stands, backing away from my bloody mess of a friend on the ground. Eric grabs Christina by the shoulders and pulls her to her feet harshly. "You're done when I say you're done!"

I glance to Four. His jaw is clenched and his eyes look dead. His arms are folded across his chest, but I would bet almost anything his fists are clenched right now.

Eric pulls Christina through the ropes and toward the door to the room. "We're going to show everyone what happens to cowards. Come on!" They exit the door and we all follow but Four. He won't look at me.

Eric leads us to the chasm, this ledge near the pit that drops further down than I can see. All you can hear is the faint rush of water below. Four warned us about this our first day on our tour. There are railings, naturally, to prevent accidents. He said people die falling - or jumping - over the side. I can't mask my shock and horror when I see Eric lift Christina over the rail. She pleads with him through the blood dripping down her throat to let her stay on the side of safety.

"Hang from the rail for five minutes and I will forget your display of cowardice," Eric addresses the group. The alternative option does not need to be said.

I don't know what to do. I need to help Christina, but there's no way in hell I'm going to earn myself a dangle of the chasm in the process. I start counting the seconds in my head to pass the time. I'm hardly to thirty before I hear Al start yelling down to Christina.

"Come on, Christina! Don't fall!  
"Don't die, Christina. Just hold on!" I chime in. "Let's go, Chris!" Will yells.

Soon enough, the shouts from the three of us are so mingled you can't distinguish the words being spoken. It seems like it's been half an hour already. The count in my head was thrown off, but I know she must be close by now.

"Just a little longer!" I cry out. I see Christina's knuckles whiten with the extra grip force she's applying to the rail.

Soon enough, Eric yells that time is up. Will, Al, and I run to the railing as soon as we hear the words, ignoring Eric's berating words toward us. Al reaches over, grabbing Christina's wrists and hauling her up. Will steadies Al and I guide Chris's body back over to safety. She collapses against the railing, sliding down to sit on the ground as Eric walks away from us. I can tell she's holding back tears. I need to get her out of here.

"Come on," I tell Christina. "Let's go."

She nods, and Will and Al help her to her feet. All four of us head back to mine and Christina's dorm. Our walk is slow, but none of us complain. Will and Al lag behind us, but I can hear Al's repeated apologies.


	6. Fists and Words

Christina doesn't talk much through the morning. From the look of her face, I wouldn't be surprised if it was physically painful to speak. Her dark skin dulls the blue of the fresh bruises, but the color is as vibrant as it can be. We throw knives without ado, doing our best to focus and keep our mouths shut. Even through lunch, Christina is silent. We get the occasional nod, but never words.

Eric is absent at this afternoon's training session and Four does not address the events of yesterday other than letting Christina be the odd person out for the fights today. My name is first on the list today. My stomach churns when I see Peter's to the right of it. I can't pay attention to anything else. What did I notice yesterday about his movements? Was he the one that only threw ribs punches? Was he in the first fight I didn't observe closely enough? Or was it something else? My mind races, trying to focus so I don't panic at the perverse smile Peter wears as we get in the ring.

Four signals us to begin, and I start on the defensive. Too late, I see the closed hand fly to my cheek. The shock of the punch, the numbness that spreads over my face throws me off so much that I don't even put my arms up to block the next one that hits in the same spot. I'm already dizzy. I try for a rib shot, but Peter ducks out of the way and I make contact with nothing. As I stumble forward from the momentum of the punch, Peter tries to swipe my feet out from under me. I see Four leaving the room now that Peter isn't right in front of me. Somehow I manage to stay up and I land a punch with my dominant had to his chin. All I register next is falling, my cheek still numb. I don't even feel my body hit the floor.

I wake up to a mix of hushed voices and the smell of antiseptic. My head is throbbing. My side is throbbing. I feel swollen and my headache is killing me.

"Shut up," my voice cracking as I tell the voices. Instead of quieting, I hear a squeal and feel arms around me. Christina. As she pulls away, I open my eyes to see Chris sitting on my bed, Will holding her hand. Al is sitting in a chair next to my bed; his face looks bloody. Why is Al bloody? "What time is it?" I ask.

"About quarter after eleven," Will answers.

"It's Wednesday morning," Christina adds.

Wednesday morning...? I've been out almost a day? The confusion must be evident to my friends, and they fill me in on the events of the past day.

"I saw Four leave. During my fight," I say to the group. They look at each other. What aren't they telling me? "What?"

Will clears his throat before speaking. "Yeah. Peter kicked you in the ribs after you fell, but he wouldn't take you to the infirmary." I guess that explains my rib pain. "Al carried you here and Christina came too. Al and I still had to fight yesterday."

"We've all been coming during our free time," Christina adds.

"I'm sorry I couldn't stay yesterday, Tris," Al addresses me. "I didn't want to leave you here."

"It's fine Al, I had Chris. You had to get back, I understand. Thank you, all of you, for being here now." We chat a little longer, but the lunch period is nearly over and my friends need to get back to training. I'm released that evening, but I don't feel like resting.

Eager to catch up, I make my way to the training room with the bags. I need to practice if I want to avoid getting beaten to a pulp again. The door is unlocked and I'm surprised to see a man working at one of the stations. Lingering in the threshold, I see the tattoo edging out from under the man's shirt collar. Four. I debate turning around and leaving, not wanting to confront my instructor so soon after his betrayal. Do I really think of his leaving as betrayal? I'm hurt, that's for sure.

Making up my mind to stay brave and strengthen my body, I enter the training room and walk over to Four. The surprise is evident as it spreads across his features. As he turns his attention away from the bag and over to me, it looks like he might even be starting to smile before he presses his lips together. His hand reaches out to my face, resting on my bruised cheek. Neither of us speak. I feel his calloused hand resting against my puffy face. I close my eyes as his thumb strokes across the cut across my cheekbone. I let myself enjoy the pleasant tingling sensation I feel from his touch, figuring I've earned a nice touch after all the aggressive ones I had yesterday. Four's hand is firm against my face, but his touch is soft as can be. Too soon, he withdraws his hand from my face and I open my eyes, narrowing them at him.

"Now you care?" I ask, my voice sharp. How he can just switch from being tender and caring to the callous instructor we all know exhausts me. His mood swings are so sudden.

"What?"

"I saw you leave yesterday."

"Tris..."

"What, Four? Too disappointed to stay?"

"No - I - Tris - " he stutters. He closes his eyes and pinches his nose, concentrating. When he speaks again, it's much more measured and steady. The voice I'm used to. "That was not something I wanted to watch," he murmurs, his eyes meeting mine. "I would have thought you of all people would understand that feeling."

My expression softens as I see the meaning behind his words. Just like me the first day of fighting, Four wasn't fond of watching the violence, powerless to help. I'm still upset, but I understand. He reaches out to grasp my hand, running his thumb across my knuckles.

"I did land one punch," I say with a smile. This earns me an earnest smile from Four. It looks good on him. When he drops my hand, I remember the reason behind my visit here. I need practice.

"I can stay, if you want. I was just finishing when you got here," he offers.

"I don't want to inconvenience you."

"It's not an inconvenience. I'll stay," he says with finality.

Together, we work on my form. He shows me how to attack, then I practice until I get it just right.

"You don't have much muscle," he states factually after I demonstrate some punches. "You'll get more power from using your knees and elbows. Strike fast and you'll be alright." I struggle with Four's advice, it throws my balance off, but by the end of the night I'm decent enough. Four makes us stop just before midnight.

"Tris, you need to rest. I'm sure you aren't even supposed to be here." "I'm fine," I state irritably. It's killing me knowing I missed a day of training. "We're done here. Go to bed. I'll see you in the morning."

"At least let me help clean up," I plead. It seems selfish to go lay in my bed while he cleans our mess. He concedes, and together we wipe down the bag and mat in no time. We part at the door to the room, and I thank him for his help.

I make my way straight to the shower, eager to wash the sweat and infirmary smell off my body. The shower nearly lulls me to sleep, and I'm out cold within seconds of laying down in bed.

The morning is not so pleasant. I wake to Christina's concerned interrogation of where I was last night, which quickly turns to admonishment.

"Seriously? You got knocked unconscious and the second you get released you go train? What the hell? You know you need to rest. What if you had passed out up there, alone?" she asks.

"Well, I wasn't alone. Four was helping me," I say, careful not to sound sheepish.

"You were alone with Four?" she squeaks.

"Yeah, he was finishing up working out when I got there. He was really helpful, we worked together for a while." I respond.

"Doesn't he, like, scare you? I mean, he's so intimidating! I think I would vomit from nerves if I was alone with him."

I can't keep myself from smiling anymore. This just isn't the Four I know. At least Chris just thinks I'm smiling at her exaggeration. I don't know how to explain my interactions with Four just yet. It's not like anything inappropriate has happened between us. But we've definitely gone beyond the instructor/student relationship. Maybe, I think, we're friends. But friends don't get the feelings I feel when they touch each other in the most innocent of ways... I calm myself down by reminding me that he's just acting out of concern for his initiates. I'm his initiate. I'm not his friend, I'm not his anything else - just initiate.

I'm grateful that Christina seems back to her normal self after Eric's taunting earlier in the week. She's talkative and cheerful again, but her bruises are fading to a nasty green and purple. They're the last reminder to us all of what happened.

We're still training with knives this morning. Even with just a day off, I feel like I'm out of practice. I fight to make mine stick in the center of the target, and I succeed with some regularity. Surveying the room again, I see that now most of the initiates are hitting the center too. Only Al and another boy seem to be struggling. Regrouping, I throw knife after knife, determined to get five in a row stuck to that center circle. Midway through, I hear the training room door swing open and Eric's voice greet Four, not entirely polite. Eric joins Four in critiquing our form, but Eric's presence just makes me nervous. I can't get that fifth knife in the center.

"How many days have you been throwing?" Eric's voice calls out. Oh no, he's talking to Al.

"Three before today," Al responds.

"Three days. Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Then why can't you hit the target?"

Al doesn't speak, his eyes on the floor.

"If you've been throwing for three days, why can't you hit the target? Do you think in the real world you get three days to practice a skill? If you're on a mission, do you think you'll get three days to learn something new? You will get yourself killed if you are this slow on a mission. You will be fired if you are this slow behind a computer. You will not survive here if you can't learn!"

The entire room is silent. After a pause, Eric says, "Go get your knives."

"Right now? While everyone is throwing?" Al asks, incredulous.

"Did I stutter?" he yells in Al's face. Turning to address the rest of us, Eric yells, "Keep going!"

"No."

"What did you just say?"

"I said no! I'm not going to walk out there and get stabbed by a flying knife."

"Alright, then how about you go stand in front of the target while Four here does some target practice." Eric's question is voiced as a demand.

Before Al can head out, I do the stupidest thing I've done since I got here. I speak up to Eric.

"I'll do it. Anyone can stand in front of the targets." I push myself to maintain eye contact with Eric while I speak. He raises his pierced eyebrows in surprise.

"Okay," he says, to my astonishment.

Four steps up, his lips pressed tightly together. We share a glance before I walk out to the target, ignoring Al's fallen knives. Eric tells Four to start.

I severely underestimated the terror caused by knives flying toward your head. I will myself not to flinch, but my eyes close anyway, bracing for the impact of the first knife. It lands with a resounding thud not six inches from my waist. Eric says something to Four, but I can't make out the words. Four grabs another knife and I close my eyes, not even trying to keep them open this time. I can feel my heartbeat in my face.

"Eyes open, stiff," Four calls from the other side of the room. I open them just in time to see the knife fly over my head, again sticking in the target. "Come on, it's not that hard to stand there," he goads. Another knife hits the board. The taunting continues with each knife thrown. When the last knife is released,

I'm staring into Four's eyes. Then I notice my ear feels warm. Raising my hand, I touch the slowly flowing blood. I can't believe it. He cut me. _He cut me._ I trusted him and _he cut me_. I'm seething as I walk back to the front of the room. Eric and the rest of my class are leaving, but Four stays behind, tidying up the room. I may as well have steam blowing out my bleeding ear I'm so mad right now.

"You cut me," I say, my rage barely suppressed.

Four glances up at me. "Yes," he states.

"Why?" I'm yelling now. I can't fathom a reason.

"You don't get it, do you?" Get what, I think to myself. Get that you're trying to maim me? I shake my head.

"If I wanted to hurt you, I would have already." With that, he storms out of the room, leaving me alone. All I want is to scream. And scream and scream and scream. Anything to release my frustration.

I settle with knocking out my opponent in the afternoon as fast as possible. I'm rewarded with the opportunity of fighting Edward. As much as I hate admitting it, Four's advice is the only reason I won. Striking quickly with my elbows and knees brought him down before he could do anything of significance to me. The victory feels good. Maybe now Peter can shut up.


	7. Looking Good

I walk into the Pit, automatically looking toward my regular table to see Christina, Al, and Will all engaged in a lively discussion. I'm smiling as I sit down in the open chair by Al and help myself to some dinner. Their conversation stops, then Will addresses me.

"Tris! We need your opinion. Which is better: the chocolate cake or the lemon cake?" he asks.

"Obviously the chocolate cake," I state plainly. What kind of question is that? My response turns our table into a madhouse again. I hear Chris and Al gloating that they still had the majority vote, but Will kept arguing that the lemon cake was more refreshing. I don't get involved in the argument, but instead think of what do to with myself this weekend. I'd like to get back into physical conditioning, maybe go running again. I'm confident in my throwing skills; all but two knives I threw this morning hit the target's inner three rings. My fight was alright, but I lost again. Not nearly as badly as I had with Peter though. No infirmary today!

To my surprise, Uriah comes by our table. We've all seemed to stick to our training groups, even in our free time. After answering today's screening question - another for team chocolate - he tells us that Zeke is throwing a party and that all the "cool initiates" are invited.

"So that means no Peter, no Edward, and no Myra, right?" Christina asks with a hearty laugh.

"Exactly," Uriah replies with a smile and a wink. He tells us where to go and to be there at nine, then he heads out.

We make plans to meet each other by the chasm at nine, then head over to Zeke's together. I can tell Al is excited, this is his first party here. Christina and I head back to our room to get ready and presumably Will and Al do the same. How do guys even get ready for a party? Do they even shower, or do they just put on some aftershave?

Chris talks me into wearing one of her dresses this time. It's conservative for Christina, but rather flashy by my standards. It's knee length, but it hugs my body the whole way down. The dress is sleeveless with a deep v-neck. The wide straps cover my tattoo. I refuse her offer of heels, but allow the mascara and eyeliner again. I add a jacket of my own to feel more comfortable and we're out the door.

"So, just so last weekend doesn't happen again, I was planning on having Will over tonight. Do you have somewhere to stay? If not, we can figure someth - " Christina hurriedly speaks.

"I have somewhere to stay. Don't worry about it," I assure her. "Be safe!"

"You're the best roomie ever, Tris," she squeals, giving me a hug. I'm starting to get adjusted to her physical affection. Not quite used to it, but it doesn't make me too uncomfortable anymore. What a difference two weeks can make.

Once we meet up with Will and Al, Chris and Will seem to disappear into their own little world. Al must realize this about the same time as me.

"Thanks again, Tris, for what you did earlier this week for me. With Eric. It was really brave of you. I was so worried you'd get hurt," Al tells me.

"Oh, uh, it was no problem, Al. Don't mention it," I reply. But really. Don't mention it, Al.

"I really admire how brave you are. You catch on to things so quickly here." "Um, thanks."

I'm uncomfortable now, that's for sure. Thankfully, we run into Uriah and some of his friends on the way to the party, so I'm able to avoid talking to Al any longer. I don't know what I was expecting, but this party is about on par with last weekend's, perhaps with more liquor flowing. Uriah shows us to the drinks and introduces me to his friends. I recognize Lynn and Marlene, and I get to meet Gabe and Rita.

I want to see if Four's here. I grab a drink and head back to the main room, looking for him. Luckily for me, he's pretty easy to pick out of a crowd what with his height and neck tattoo. I spot him quickly - he's looking around the room too. And my luck couldn't get any better: Zeke is with Four. Devising a plan on the spot, I realize I can go talk with Zeke and thank him for hosting, which fulfills my dutiful guest responsibilities, but then I end up right next to Four without anything seeming weird or forced. I'd really like to ask if I could sleep over at his place again, but I can't even think of that sentence without my face and neck turning red. Swallowing my nerves, and my drink, I approach Zeke.

"Hi Zeke!" I say with a smile.

"Tris!" he exclaims with a wide smile. To my complete surprise, he throws his arms around me in a hug. I don't even want to know the expression on my face right now. Shock? Discomfort? _Stiffness?_ I awkwardly pat his back and this must get my message across because he releases me. "It's great to see you again!" he adds.

"Thanks for having me! The party is great so far," I tell him. "Good evening," Four says to me. He's wearing a smirk.

"Good evening to you too. Why are you smiling?" I ask, not trying to mask the suspicion in my voice.

"Can't a man smile?" he teases, his amusement only growing stronger.

"Well I was under the impression most men can. You, however..." I trail off, trying to tease back. It works. I get a wide smile at that, and Zeke laughs heartily. He whispers something to Four that makes him blush and rub the back of his neck, gives me a wave, and walks away to find Shauna.

"Nice to see you didn't end up in the infirmary today," Four says.

"I agree." I state. We fall into silence, but not an uncomfortable one, as we sip our drinks and watch the crowd of people. Shortly, Four nudges me with his elbow to catch my attention and leans toward my ear to speak, brushing my hair away to expose my neck. It's hard to concentrate on his words when I can feel his hot breath against such sensitive skin.

"Al's coming over. He has a thing for you, you know," he whispers into my ear. I go wide eyed. I know Al's a little awkward, but he doesn't have a crush on me. No way. We're good friends here, that's all. Right? But Four is right about one thing, Al is coming over to us. I don't miss the nervous glances he throws to Four as he comes.

"Al," Four greets him with his hard instructor voice.

"Hi Four. Um, Tris, do you want anything to drink?" he asks me. "No, thanks though."

"Oh, okay," he says, eyes turning to the floor. Is Four right? Does Al like me? I need to ask Christina. Oh shit, Christina. I need a place to sleep. I can't ask with Al right here though, now I'm nervous he'll offer his room.

"Hey, could you show me to the restroom?" I ask Four, sensing a way out of this.

"Of course. Follow me." He nods to Al as we walk away. Once we're out of earshot, I thank him. I do actually need to use the bathroom though, and to my surprise, Four is nearby when come back out. He's even holding two drinks. Extending one to me, he smiles again when I accept it.

"So, uh..." I trail off, then clear my throat. "So last Friday, with Chris and Will..." I stammer. Come on, get it out Tris, I tell myself. I look into his eyes now as I speak again. "That's happening again and I was wondering if I had somewhere to stay tonight?" I end with a quiet voice.

"With me?" he asks, incredulous. Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no. I shouldn't have assumed last week was a future invitation. For all I know, Four wants to go home with a girl of his own tonight. Why didn't that cross my mind before? I feel the heat raise in my face.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to assume. I can find -"

"No! No, you're always welcome," he assures me. Looking down to his feet, he continues, "I was just surprised you wanted to after the way you left last time." He glances back to my eyes, gaging my reaction to his words. I don't have a quick answer, so I let it go. "Come get me anytime you're ready to go," he says. I thank him again before parting.

I enjoy the party, dancing, talking, and drinking with my friends. I speak with Shauna briefly, even Uriah's friends Marlene and Lynn. Christina and Will are gone fairly early, her text to me confirming they left. Al and I hang out most of the night, the awkwardness from earlier with Four gone.

It's past midnight and the party is still going strong, but I'm ready to go. I tell Al goodnight and make my way back to Four. He sees me approaching and excuses himself from his friends.

"Ready?" he asks me. I nod.

We exit together. Once we're outside Zeke's apartment, I feel Four's hand on my lower back guide me to walk to the left. His hand feels warm and electric spanning my back. His touch is gentle, and again my mind wanders to feeling his hands all over me. Too soon, his hand is gone from me, and we walk side by side in comfortable silence to his apartment. Letting us in, he reminds me to make myself at home. I mention I'd like a shower, but before I move far, his hand is back on my lower back. This time, it's guiding me closer to him. I don't resist. I'm too caught up in the feeling of his hand on me and his natural scent and the warmth that radiates off of him. I want to be even closer. His other hand moves my hair behind my ear, brushing the spot he nicked with a knife. For the second time that night, I nearly shiver.

"You look good tonight, Tris," he murmurs into my ear. I feel the hot breath, but no lips. I am longing to feel those lips. Four backs away from me to go grab a pillow and blanket for the

couch, and I am too stunned to move at first. Before he turns back around toward me with the couch supplies, I flee to the bathroom.

Oh my goodness. What the hell was that? What is that supposed to mean? I feel the butterflies in my stomach raging to get out. I fiddle with the shower knobs trying to calm myself. I undress in a hurry, my mind still racing. There aren't many ways to interpret Four's words, I conclude. Could he actually like me? Do I like him? Okay, that was a dumb question, I very obviously like him. But he's my instructor! Maybe he means I'm putting on muscle. That must be it. Satisfied with my conclusions, I exit the shower and put my dress back on. Leaving the bathroom, I drape my jacket over a kitchen chair.

I go over to the couch where Four is sitting and take a seat. "Thank you again, Four. Really."

"Don't call me that."

"Um, then what should I call you?"

"Nothing yet. I'll let you know."

I lose myself in his eyes again, curious about our interaction. I don't know how long we're sitting together before I feel the yawn rise in my throat. Four chuckles and tells me I should go to bed. I try to argue that I should take the couch, but he pulls the whole "you spent the night in the infirmary this week" card and I know I can't change his mind. Secretly, I'm glad I get to sleep in his bed again. It feels safe there.

Feeling bold, I reach out and squeeze his hand. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Tris," he says as he squeezes mine back. We both have stupid little smiles on our faces as I make my way to his bedroom and he gets situated on the couch. This time, I take a moment to look around before sleeping. The walls are bare and the room minimalistic. Kind of like mine growing up. He has a dresser, a nightstand, and a bed with a dark grey comforter. I get situated in bed, and I'm asleep in a few minutes.

I wake in the morning to a knock on the door.

"One minute," I croak out. I adjust my dress so I look presentable and smooth down my hair, combing it with my fingers. There's no mirror in here, so I've just got to go with it. I take a deep breath and tell myself it's not weird that I spent the night with my instructor. Not weird at all, not inappropriate, not awkward. Totally normal. I open the door carefully.

"Good morning," Four greets me. That's a nice morning voice. Just the right amount of scratchy. I smile in response, looking for the man that accompanies the voice. I round the corner of the apartment into the kitchenette to find Four with two plates of toast and eggs.

"I'll be right back," he tells me. "Help yourself." He comes back in fresh clothes just as I put my jacket back on. This dress in the day feels a bit much. Four holds out what looks like a shirt to me.

"A shirt and sweatpants. If you want," he says, rubbing his neck with his free hand. I accept the clothes.

"Thank you," I whisper. I go to the bathroom to change. This is so much better than that dress. the shirt is long and the collar is so oversized on me that you can see part of my raven tattoo. The sweatpants won't stay up, so I guess I'll just hike them up every few steps on my way back. Both the shirt and pants are soft and black and I feel perfectly at home in them. I make my way to rejoin Four for breakfast, trying to think of something to talk about.

"Thank you for breakfast, Four," I say as I sit with him.

"I thought I asked you not to call me that," he replies with a smile.

"Old habits..." I trail off, smiling like an idiot. "What time is it?" I ask.

"About 8:30. I've got to get going shortly though, I have a shift."

"A shift? Doing what?"

"I normally work in the control room for the compound when I'm not training initiates. They needed some extra help today."

"That's interesting. Scary Four, the computer nerd," I joke. He looks down to his plate, a small smile on his face.

"I suppose."

We finish breakfast in a comfortable silence and get ready to leave. When I open the door to leave, I find my face put almost directly in a man's chest. Oh dear. We both step back from each other to get a look. It's Zeke. Both our eyes are wide and Zeke's mouth is open. Gaping. He looks from me, to Four, and to me again trying to find words. I feel my face heat with a blush. Why am I blushing? It's not like anything happened. Behind me, I hear Four speak.

"You're blocking the door Zeke," he says in his intimidating voice. This snaps Zeke out of whatever trance he's in and he moves aside. I eke out a "thank you" to Four and try to communicate with my eyes a message of "oh my goodness I'm freaking out what do I do" before leaving. As I'm walking away, I hear Zeke say, "Four! Dude! I didn't realize!"

Oh dear. I need to talk to Christina.


	8. Girl Talk

I don't find a chance to talk with Christina until Sunday evening. We're both hanging out in our room before bed when I get the courage to talk with her.

"Hey, Chris?" I ask.

"What's up?" she says, turning to me.

"I have... I need... Um. I'm not sure..." I trail off, unsure of how to phrase this.

"Boy problems?" she asks with an eager smile. I nod. "Tell me about it. Who is it?"

"Well, not _boy trouble_ boy trouble. We aren't anything. Just friends," I start. Chris nods before I continue. "It's a member."

" _What?_ " she nearly yells. "Like a member of the CIA, not an initiate?"

"You asked before who I stayed with when Will came over?" I start again, unsure of how much background to give. I'm certainly not telling her I have a giant crush on this guy. Purely platonic. Her eyes are bulging now, it's like all her questions are pressurizing her head. "He offered his couch and I accepted. Nothing happened. And I took him up on that again Friday night. _And nothing happened._ "

"Okay..." she interjects.

"And when we were leaving his place Saturday morning, Zeke was at the door when I opened it." I pause, waiting for her reaction.

"That doesn't look good at all," she states plainly. "I know."

"Well, what did our mystery man do?"

"He just told him to move out of the door. That's it. They're friends, but I just don't know. I don't want everyone here thinking I slept with a member during initiation!" I grab my face with my hands, hiding from Christina.

"Tris. Tris, look at me," Christina says with a level voice. I comply. "You did nothing wrong. Who says you can't have a sleep over with whoever you want. Especially the boring kind," she says with a teasing smile. "It's going to be fine. If he's anything with Uriah, he's cool."

"I just don't know what to do. Do I go talk to Zeke or do I talk to the guy?" I ask. Christina thinks it over.

"I'd talk to Zeke. Chances are your guy already said something to him anyway," she tells me.

"Okay. That sounds like a plan. Maybe I can catch him around lunch tomorrow," I say more to myself than to her. "Thank you, Chris."

"Of course," she replies. She turns off the lights to our room, and we both settle in for bed. "You know, you can talk to me about anything. I mean it," Chris tells me with a stern voice.

"I know. Thank you," I almost whisper. We're both ready to sleep, excited for what the morning has in store.

In the morning, we move on from bullseye target practice to human mannequins. I hadn't really though about hurting a person when we were just aiming at circles. Now, it feels more real. More high-stakes. I'm nervous, but in a good way. I'm excited to see how my aim as improved. Four tells us we're working with handguns today and we're all looking forward to the end of the knives, at least for now. Gripping those damned things... They're not the most ergonomic, especially with hours of target practice a day. The guns are more fun.

When we're released for lunch, I walk slowly to the Pit, my eyes scanning for Zeke. I don't see him on the walk to the Pit, I don't see him during the lunch period, and I don't see him on my way back to training. The selfish part of me is thrilled - that was going to be a very uncomfortable conversation.

Afternoon training consists of fighting, again. When I get there, our names are already listed on the wall. Four's working on sanitizing the mat. I'm going toward the end today, fighting Myra. That shouldn't be too bad. She's bigger than me, but I'm faster.

The fights drag on, and I watch everyone to see their tells, their strategy, skill, and weaknesses. I'm getting better at watching Christina, Will, and Al. I'm learning to detach myself and my feelings from the situation. It bothers me that I can do this, it doesn't feel particularly compassionate. We're all getting better, though. Most of the fights are lasting longer each time, especially Al's. He's been refusing to punch people, really punch, since the day he knocked Will unconscious.

I look over to Four when Al gets in the ring with Peter. His arms are already crossed over his chest and his jaw is clenched. Peter is taunting Al already, calling him names, trying to goad Al into participating. It doesn't work. All Al will do is block, refusing to go on the offensive. After what feels like an hour, Peter gets Al to the ground and keeps him there as Al pretends to be unconscious. Four calls the fight with an expression I can't place on his face.

It's my turn now, but before I start to move toward the mat, I feel a hand grab my forearm, pulling me. It's Four.

"Attack first. You can win if you get the first hit," he tells me in a low voice. The words are rushed, and he releases me quickly.

I keep his words in mind as Myra and I begin. I'm able to knee her in the thigh right off the bat. I focus on striking before she can and it pays off. I win quickly. With minor injuries. She was only able to get one solid hit in to my ribs.

The last fight is between Christina and Edward. I take back everything I said about it getting easier to watch my friends. This is just brutal. Luckily, it's over quickly, like mine.

On the way to dinner, I keep my eyes peeled for Zeke again. I'm feeling more confident now after my win. We must be on different schedules though because he's still nowhere to be found. I see Four sit with Shauna and Lauren. He's still scowling. It makes me smile. He looks ridiculous when he scowls.


	9. Games

Sharp knocking on the door wakes me up. It's soon followed by shouting. "Wake up, initiates! Meet at the Pit, five minutes!" a woman's voice yells.

"What the hell," Christina says with a thick voice. "It's," she pauses, glancing to her phone, "It's three in the morning."

"Whatever it is, I bet we don't want to be late," I say, quickly dressing.

We make our way to the Pit with the majority of our class of initiates. No one looks like they have a clue what's going on, not even Lauren's group. I see Four, Lauren, and Eric waiting for us, each holding messenger bags, when we arrive. At precisely 3:05, they motion for us to follow them.

For the first time since my arrival just over two weeks ago, I leave the compound. The smell of the fresh morning air is invigorating. I've never enjoyed being outside more in my life. I grin at Christina. Four, Lauren, and Eric are silent until we approach two large vans. Four and Eric stand by a van and Lauren holds the neutral ground in between them.

"We're playing a game today," Four starts. "It's like capture the flag, except you'll each have your own flag on your person. You will be assigned a target on the opposing team. It is your goal to capture their flag without losing your own."

"Each team will have a captain, me and Four. The team with the most flags at the end of the day wins. Get your target's flag and keep yours. You want to pick first?" Eric asks Four.

"I'll take the stiff," he says, without hesitation. He jerks his head toward me, and I join him by one of the vans.

"Edward," Eric says with a smile.

"Uriah," Four barks.

"Picking the weak ones, huh? That's not an excuse for losing. I'll take Al."

Al looks over to me with a sad look and a shrug before joining Eric. Poor Al's going to have a rough day. The picking goes back and forth and Lauren's taking notes the whole time. Luckily, I end up with Christina on my team, but Eric got Will and Marlene.

"God, I'm glad we didn't get stuck with Peter," Christina says, not trying to be quiet as we climb in the van. "Could you imagine the pain of being stuck in a car with him for who knows how long?" We laugh together and hear another few voices join in. Uriah's is easy to pick out as he's riding shotgun. I'm behind the driver's seat with Christina next to me. Lynn is in here somewhere and I'd bet she's laughing too. I look out the window and see Lauren arranging papers, grouping her notes with some of them and grouping them into folders. She hands a pile to Eric and a pile to Four before returning from the way we came. A glare from Four shuts us all up as he gets in the driver's seat, adjusting his bag and handing it to Uriah. Both vans pull out from the compound and we're off.

Four doesn't talk until we get on the highway. He tells Uriah to open the messenger bag at his feet and distribute the files. They each have our names on the outside. I open mine and see a picture of Peter staring back at me. Listed next to his picture is his height, weight, hair color, and eye color. Below this, in small, neat, all-capital handwriting is a note saying "flag: wristwatch". What?

"Each of you have your target in your file. Their flag is listed," Four states with a level voice. "You have until 16:00 to obtain and secure the flag listed in your file. If you lose the flag before 16:00, it is not counted toward the team's score."

"Where are we going?" Uriah asks. "The national mall."

Chris and I look at each other with wide, eager eyes. The national mall! Washington DC! This is going to be fun. Challenging, yes, but oh so fun.

"Can we work together?" Christina asks Four.

"You can. But you'll find it much more inconspicuous to work alone or in pairs."

Peter's wristwatch. How am I going to get Peter's watch? Brute force is off the table; I couldn't win and we'll be in public. That leaves stealth. Covert operations.

"This is an exercise in covert operations," Four starts again, addressing the van. "We haven't broached this yet in training, but consider it a good warm up for the later stages."

The rest of the ride is filled with quiet murmurs, talks with our teammates on approaches and strategies. Christina tells me her target is Will, and his flag is his glasses. That'll be interesting. I share my information about Peter to her. I try and figure out what my flag is. What did Lauren notice about me? What stands out about me? I just blend in. It's not like my whole body can be my flag.

When we arrive in the city, we park a few blocks away from the mall. Four tells us that Eric and his team are around the mall too, but not near us. Four pulls a small box from his bag and hands out earpieces. They're discreet.

"These are two-way communication devices. You will constantly hear a feed of whoever on our team is live. To make yourself live, press and hold this button as you speak," Four tells us as he presses a small button on the outer face of the earpiece. "These are for mission-related communique only." He gives a pointed look to Christina and Uriah. We all fiddle with the little devices, getting them situated in our ears and giving them a trial run.

It's 4:35 when we all head into the mall. It's still very dark, so we can't see Eric's team. We all gather near the botanic gardens to discuss a strategy. People are arguing about whether to obtain target flags early in the day or late. Uriah is pulling for early to get it out of the way, but several people on our team are trying to argue that waiting will give us the advantage in not having the flags stolen back from us. Myra actually suggests not trying to get the flags, but just to protect ourselves. Thankfully, we quickly rule that out.

Before anyone has a chance to notice, I slip away. I'm getting sick of the bickering, so I make my way north toward the capitol reflecting pool. It's wide open here at this time of day, I'll be able to see anyone approaching me there. The botanic gardens are too crowded. To my surprise, Four falls into step beside me. I don't comment.

"Where are you going?" he asks in his soft voice. God, it makes my heart melt. No, no, no. He's your instructor, I remind myself for the thousandth time.

"Reflecting pool," I say with a shrug. "It's quieter there. I need to think." Four nods in response. When we're there, Four asks me about my target.

"Peter," I say, unable to keep the surprise out of my voice. I realize quickly that must have been Lauren's job this morning. She assigned us targets and flags. That's why she was there - Four and Eric have no idea who has who.

"I have Eric," he offers.

"You're playing? I bet he has you too. What's his flag?"

"I have been assigned to retrieve his eyebrow ring," he says with a grimace and look of mock disgust. "What about you?"

"Watch."

"Any ideas?"

"That's what I'm thinking over. There's no way I'll be able to spot him from a distance. I need to wander to Peter places to find him," I say, analyzing places at the mall Peter would be drawn to. "Something tells me he won't be in the museums when they open." That earns me a chuckle.

"How are you going to get his watch?"

"By being sneaky - I'm sorry, _clandestine_ ," I say with a teasing smile. Shit. Am I flirting? It's hardly dawn and I'm flirting. What the hell. At least he smiles back at me.

We make our way back to the botanic gardens to find the team has disbanded. It's still dark and nothing is open, so my options are limited for the time being. I decide to alter my appearance. This morning, I had worn a jacket over my t-shirt and sweater, so I take it off and tie it around my waist. I'm wearing my high-waisted black jeans Christina encouraged me to get, so I cuff the ankles a couple inches to make them look different. Finally, I pull my hair out of my bun and put it back up into a high ponytail. I've never really liked wearing my hair like this, it swings when I walk. But it's something I would never do, so maybe it'll make me harder to find. When I'm satisfied, I look around at my surroundings. I've never been here before, so I take off to the west, knowing I'm nearly at the southeast end of the mall. Four walks by me again. I give him a sideways glance using my peripheral vision, but I guess I wasn't as subtle as I thought because he turns to me, smiling.

"What's your plan?" I ask him.

"I'm going to focus on my initiates. Eric's not one for hiding out. I'll see to that when the moment is right," he says.

We part ways soon after, when the sun begins to well and truly rise. I mostly make my way around the mall as a tourist, taking in the sights. I've seen a few initiates. I use my earpiece to communicate Eric's team member's locations when I see them, just in case my team is looking.

By nine, I've still had no sightings of Peter. I'm sitting at a bench now by the Martin Luther King, Jr. memorial on the water, enjoying the serenity of my surroundings and the gentle roll of the water. I'm thankful we got to go to such a nice spot for our activity today.

"Any progress?"

The voice startles me out of my reverie. Four sits next to me on the bench, expressionless.

"Not yet," I say flatly.

"I saw Christina earlier. She was walking around with Will," he tells me conversationally. I smile. "Is that still happening?"

"Yes, but I doubt that's why they're together today. Will is her target." Four laughs, shaking his head. "Lauren was having fun, wasn't she?"

Our earpieces crackle and I hear a small voice say, "Peter. Art gallery lawn." My eyes go wide and I smile in excitement. I leave Four at the bench and walk as casually as I can toward the National Gallery of Art. I'm hardly past the reflecting pool when I hear a voice call out my name. I turn toward the voice, accidentally whipping my hair in my face, and see Al jogging over.

"Hey Al, how's it going? What brings you to the reflecting pool?" I greet him holding the button in my earpiece by way of getting my hair in order.

"Alright. Have you gotten your flag yet?" he asks.

"No, I'm just looking for my target still. Have you?" I reply. I don't want to tell him it's Peter. We are on opposite teams after all.

"No. My flag's a hair tie," he says, eyes cast toward the ground. I'm still walking toward the gallery, but Al doesn't seem to be going anywhere in particular. A hair tie would be hard to get, especially if it was in their hair.

"Al," I start, unsure of the best way to phrase my question. He looks at me. "Who is your target?" I ask. I'm suddenly very aware of our size difference. If he wanted, he could pin me to the ground and rip the elastic right out of my hair. I wouldn't stand a chance if I didn't see it coming. I consider running; I could definitely escape by running. It's getting busier at the mall, I could run into a crowd and blend in.

"It's you."

My heart skips a beat. Not in the nice way like it does with Tobias. In a nervous way.

"I have proposition for you," he continues. "I won't take the flag if I can take you on a date sometime," he says with a shy smile.

What? Al? Al is trying to ask me out? Oh no. Four told me this was going to happen. Fuck!

"Al... I don't want to go on a date with you. I like being friends," I tell him earnestly. This is so awkward. How do I get away? How am I in CIA training and I can't even tell one of my best friends here has a crush on me? Al doesn't say anything, he just walks back in the direction from where he came. At least I don't have to run.

As I approach the gallery, I keep my eyes peeled for Peter. It doesn't take much, luckily for me. He's in line for the carousel and not being particularly subtle. It takes a lot of effort to keep from rolling my eyes. I hang around the area, waiting for him to take his turn and get off the ride. If I can get him while he's in a crowd, I can try and slip it off. Like a pickpocket. How do pickpockets do this? Distraction! If I can piss Peter off enough, he may not even realize. I settle on literally running into Peter and grabbing the watch while he's too irritated to notice. He gets off the ride and I follow him, getting closer and closer as we walk. I take a breath and hurl myself into Peter as if someone shoved me. I grab his wrist as I fall, feigning a grab for balance, and the watch slides right off in my hand.

"What the hell? Watch where you're going!" Peter yells, continuing to walk forward. He doesn't even make eye contact with me. _Yes!_

I get up and watch Peter walk away. He has no idea. It wasn't a subtle approach, but it worked, so I'm thrilled. I stash the watch in the front pocket of my jeans for safekeeping. I make my way to the nearest building, hoping to hide in the crowd yet again. I figure I'm done here, so I may as well enjoy the sights.

"Nice job back there. Played to his character," Four says behind me. Has he been following me? I nod and smile in response, continuing into the Smithsonian Information building whose sign is now visible through the crowds. "Have you eaten?" he asks.

"No, I haven't. Is there food here?"

"Follow me."

I do, and looking at Peter's watch, I realize it's already 1 in the afternoon. Three hours left to keep my hair tie and the watch. Three more hours. I can do three hours.

The crowd is thick as we try and maneuver through the building. I notice Four start to breathe heavily, keeping his eyes closed as he walks.

"Are you alright?" I ask, concerned. He's behaving oddly. Almost like he's going to vomit. All I get is a quick nod, no words.

"You don't have to come, I can get you something to eat and meet you outside." I tell him. Something tells me I'll be safe from Al and Peter if Four is with me. We're close to the small food court now. He's obviously very uncomfortable in here, but he stays with me. I'm leading the way through the crowd now. The wait for food feels like forever, but soon enough we get our hot dogs and get outside on the lawn.

It takes Four a couple minutes to calm down once we're sitting on the ground outside, leaning against the building in the small bit of shade we can find. I wait to eat until he starts, still wondering what's going on. It dawns on me when he finally opens his eyes, meeting mine.

"You're claustrophobic," I almost whisper. The crowds here are too dense, it triggers his claustrophobia. Why the hell did he offer to show me to the food court then? For someone so talented, he really can be dense sometimes.

Four gives me a sheepish smile while he rubs the back of his neck. "That obvious, huh?"

We eat the rest of our lunch in a comfortable silence. Neither of us make a move to get up when we finish. I allow myself to daydream. If I was someone else watching the two of us sit on the grass, I'd probably think we were on a date.

Imagine that though, a guy like Four being with someone like me. I'm younger than he is, he has his pick of the DC area women. Why would he choose me? It's times like these I'm reminded of my slight frame, my flat chest, and my narrow hips. Looking around at the women here, running on the paths, I see the stark difference between their bodies and mine. Well, that daydream was short-lived.

"Did you manage to get your flag?" I ask my lunch buddy, breaking the silence. He readjusts to get into his front pants pocket and pulls out something small. He opens his hand in front of me, revealing a small curved barbell resting in his palm. I can feel my mouth hanging open. "How?"

"It's top secret," he teases with a wink.

I spend the rest of my time in the city walking around the art gallery. I'm grateful to hear Four's voice crackle in my ear, calling us all back to the van at four, otherwise I think I would have stayed there the rest of the week.

There's a scream when I'm approaching the botanic gardens that can only belong to one person: Christina. She's running at me with a pair of glasses held high above her head. I don't even try to stifle my laugh.

"That boy is lovesick," she tells me. She looks happy. Happy with getting her flag and happy for Will's lovesickness. Again, I can't help but smile. "Did you get yours?"

I show her the watch from my pocket, still grinning.

"Nice! Someone must have grabbed my necklace earlier, I just noticed it was gone half an hour ago. I guess that was my flag. Are you missing anything?"

I go to tell her about Al, but we're nearly at the van and I don't want the others to overhear. Especially Four. He warned me about Al's intentions and I blew him off. It makes me feel ridiculous. "Later," is all I tell Chris.

The ride back to the compound is lively, we're all taking turns recounting our days to each other, passing in our earpieces, and laughing at some of the truly weird things we saw during our day in the wild. It turns out that everyone split up after I left on my own in the morning. Christina, Uriah, and Lynn were all successful in obtaining their target's flags, but Lynn had hers stolen back. Two people on my team lost their own flag; Uriah realized at lunch his wallet was missing. I'm excited to get back and see who won, it'll be close.

Eric's team is already counting points with Lauren when we arrive. We join in, and Four tallies our points. After a few minutes, Lauren tells us the numbers aren't adding up. It isn't long before we all figure out that Uriah's flag was not his wallet, but his necklace, and that he had just been pickpocketed by a stranger. This sends us all, even Four and Eric, into a fit of hysterics.

Once that discrepancy was resolved - and it was still counted against us - Lauren announced the totals.

"Eric, your team scored seven points. The team lost four flags and obtained two. Four, your team scored ten points. You lost _three_ flags," she gives a pointed look at Uriah, "and obtained four."

My team cheers and hugs, beyond excited to have won the game. Eric looks pissed, even more so when Four offers him back the eyebrow ring. We're dismissed for the day and make our way back inside. I think we're all ready for a good nap. Uriah pulls me aside when we get to the Pit, catching me off guard.

"Tris! Hey. Some of us are going out tonight, you wanna come? It's a member tradition. Meet us at the exit where the vans are at ten and we'll all go out together." he offers conspiratorially.

"That sounds fun," I reply, and I can't wait to see what the night has in store for me. But now, I think I want to drink a glass of water and take a long nap.

 **Author's Note:  
Ally Carter's Gallagher Girls series featured a scene where the girls do a similar activity at the national mall. It's been probably ten years since I read it, I don't recall which book, but this was heavily inspired by that. I think this is my favorite chapter so far. (Also by far the longest.) Let me know what you think!**


	10. Members Only

**Author's Note: I'm back! Sorry for the delay in updates in this story, I got pretty busy the past few months, and, frankly, uninspired. But now I'm back and I'll be updating regularly. This is also the point in the story where I'll be breaking off from the book's events and making my own.** **This is a (very) short chapter, but I've decided to change my writing strategy. I've been trying to write chronologically so far, but now I'm just going to write scenes that come to me and figure the rest out from there. Thank you for your patience!**

Naturally, Christina does not forget my promise of "later" and I make good on my promise when we get to our room. I recount my run-in with Al at the Mall and his proposition.

"Seriously? When did that happen? I'm normally good at sensing that stuff," Chris tells me. I can tell it's actually bothering her, not realizing Al had a crush on me. Is it still called a crush when you're in your twenties? It makes me feel like I'm in grade school again, talking about a boy with a crush on my.

"I don't know, but apparently Four knew, he told me at Zeke's last weekend," I add.

"Four knew? Four? And I didn't know?" she nearly yells. "What is happening to me? What is this place doing to me?"

"Maybe you're just distracted, Christina," I tease, not-so-subtly referencing her relationship with Will if that's what it is. I'm definitely on the mark, Christina blushes and throws a pillow at me. "I'm going to head to the gym, I want to practice with the bag a bit more," I tell her, excusing myself to change and head out.

I do go to the gym for a bit. It's nice being there alone. My cold shower afterward soothes the aches in my body. I never thought I'd be one for cold showers, but hey, I'm learning a lot about myself here. It also helps wake me up again to meet Uriah, which it's almost time for. I'm five minutes early to the rendezvous, but there is already a small crowd gathering out by the vans. I'm surprised to see members amongst the initiates. When I see Zeke and Shauna with Lynn, a small voice in the back of my mind wonders if Four will be coming too.

I try and squash that voice as soon as I hear it.

Instead, I remember that before today's outing, I was trying to track down Zeke. As uncomfortable as this is going to be, it needs to happen. I make eye contact with Zeke and give him a slight wave. Thankfully, that's enough to get him to come over to me.

"Hey Zeke," I greet him with a smile.

"Tris! I'm surprised to see you here. New kids don't normally get invited."

"Uriah actually told me I should come." I look down at my hands, fiddling with my nails. How do I bring this up? "So, the other day, uh," I glance up to Zeke. The look on his face tells me he knows where I'm going. Good. "My roommate was hooking up with a guy and Four told me I could stay with him. And that's all."

"Yeah, Tris, it's fine, I won't say anything."

"No, I'm serious. Nothing happened. He just gave me somewhere to sleep."

"I know. He used his scary voice and told me the same thing. I wasn't expecting you to come say it too. What'd he do, spend all night teaching you his scary voice?"

That gets me to smile. Do I have a scary voice? That would be so cool. I've never intimidated anyone before. "Thanks Zeke," I tell him as sincerely as I can. "So what exactly are we doing? Uriah conveniently left that part out." I look around us, scanning for Uriah, but I don't see him yet.

"He didn't tell you? That little bastard. We're going clubbing," he says with a grin. Suddenly, I feel underdressed. Whatever. I've never been clubbing before. "Come on, it's almost time to go, let's get in the cool kids van."

I follow Zeke back over to Shauna and Lynn and we all start loading into a van. Uriah does show up, along with two other people I vaguely recognize, and we set off.

When we get there a half hour later, I'm ready for a drink. What I'm not ready for is the sheer amount of people in this building. Anywhere I go, I'm touching at least three strangers. I understand why Four didn't come along on this trip; I'm not claustrophobic and I can't wait to get out of here. I can't imagine how he'd feel here. I do my best to be a part of the action, dancing with Uriah and Lynn in the throng of people. I'm having fun, but after a few songs, I'm just too hot and too covered in other peoples' drinks to enjoy myself, so I call it quits on the dance floor.

Standing at the side by the bar, I watch my friends dance and drink and have fun. It's not my scene, but I'm glad I came. I'm reminded of my first party at Shauna's place, standing on the sidelines and observing the crowd. I see people making fools of themselves, drunk people barely standing, and the designated drivers, like Zeke, who are just having a ball being a part of the night. I only have one more drink before I decide to head out. I find Shauna to confirm I can take an Uber back to the compound, and once I do, I'm home in 45 minutes.

Arriving back in the middle of the night is serene, a stark contrast to the franticness of leaving almost 24 hours earlier for our game of capture the flag. It's nice to take some time to myself and get lost in my thoughts as I head back to my room. I fall asleep thinking of my time tonight and how Tris three weeks ago would have never gone out to a club, especially on a weekday.

The next couple days of training are much like the days before the game. We train, we fight each other, and we do our best not to lose. Molly and I were paired for the last round of fighting and I actually won. After all the fights had concluded on Friday afternoon, Four addressed us as a group.

"Starting next week, we will be moving onto mental training. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday you will each be with me for a designated block of time. Tuesdays and Thursdays are for you to maintain your physical fitness independently. If you fall behind on mental or physical fitness, you will find it impossible to keep up with training," he tells us with a flat voice, like he's bored. Four makes his rounds telling everyone what time their meeting time is for the next phase of training and dismisses them when they're through. When he gets to me, we're the only two people left in the room, and there's a smirk playing with his lips.

"Prior, we'll be meeting from 4-5 PM Monday, Wednesday, and Friday for this phase of training." That stupid, adorable smirk is still on his stupid mouth.

"What?" I ask, not even trying to mask the irritation in my voice. All it does is make the smile more pronounced. Ass.

"Nothing," is the only reply I get. That stupid smirk is turning into a full-blown grin.

"What, Four?" I ask again, raising my voice. I feel my lips turning up, his smile is contagious.

"I asked you not to call me that," he reminds me, stepping closer. "Zeke told me you went with them to the club."

"Ah. Yeah, not my thing apparently."

"Mine either, and I'm sure you could guess why."

"Yeah, Shauna said you're the only person who's left faster than me." We share a laugh at that, and when I feel his breath I'm made aware again of how we are in each others' personal spaces. This doesn't feel anything like how the club felt. This is a welcome closeness. I wonder if Four feels the same way.

He takes a step back from me, rubbing the back of his neck. "Are you going to any parties this weekend?"

"I don't think so, Christina hasn't mentioned anything." Am I imagining the way his expression falls, just a bit?

"Alright, well I guess I'll see you," he says, nodding in dismissal. He's still wearing that silly smirk as I leave the training room.


	11. Tobias

I'm thankful for a relaxing weekend, something I've missed since coming to the compound. Finally, I'm able to sleep in a bit, watch stupid movies with Christina, and make some progress in my book that I haven't touched in two weeks. You know the saying the calm before the storm? Yeah. That was the calm.

When I went back to my room after lunch on Monday, I was met with a haggard-looking Christina wrapped up in Will's arms in her bed. She looked like she'd been crying. Obviously I was interrupting something, so I grabbed my jacket and left quickly, sending Chris a quick "I'm here if you need me" text as I left.

I have over an hour before I need to meet Four, so I decide to go to the training room for a bit to practice my throwing. When I get there, I find Uriah and Zeke are throwing too. It was my intention to let them be, but Uriah saw me come in.

"Tris! How'd it go?" Uriah asks with a shaky smile.

"What?" I question.

"Haven't you met with Four today?" Uriah's eyebrows are scrunched in confusion. Next to him, I see a little snicker from Zeke. Shooting him a glare, I tell Uriah I'm not meeting him until four. "Well, good luck."

"Yeah, good luck Tris. It's going to be rough, but it does get a little better. Everyone's had to do it," Zeke adds.

"Thanks guys," I say with sincerity, not because I know what they're talking about, but because they're so somber. Was this why Christina was crying? What's happening today? I shake my head to try and physically remove these thoughts from it and I grab a knife, joining Uriah and Zeke. We all throw, taking turns picking up the knives. Uriah is not doing as well as he had been, only sticking two thirds of the knives he threw. Today must really be tough if Zeke isn't taking the piss out of him for it, too. At 3:50, my phone vibrates against my hip, signaling me that it's time to head to my meeting. I raise my hand to give a slight wave goodbye and they acknowledge me with soft smiles.

"I've gotta go. Good luck throwing," I tell them before heading to meet Four.

I'm early, but so is he. Once I get to last week's training room, he motions for me to follow him, so I do. He enters a code into the elevator keypad and we head down two floors below ground, a place I didn't know existed here in the compound. Four walks ahead of me the entire time, not even looking back to see if I'm following. What the hell is going on? Christina's crying, something happened to Uriah, and now Four won't even look at me. It isn't until he abruptly turns to open a door that we make eye contact. Pausing with his hand on the knob, he looks down into my eyes.

"Tris..." he says is a low, hushed voice, "This is going to be unpleasant. It isn't real. None of it is real, okay? It's like a nightmare." I see his hand jerk, like he was going to move it over to me. "Be brave," When he opens the door, all I see is a dentist's chair and a computer desk.

"Today we are beginning fear simulations," he begins in a much louder voice. Maybe it isn't so much loud as it is normal, just a high contrast to his earlier whispers. I see him pointedly glance to the door, and my gaze follows. Is that a camera? It sure looks like a camera. "For the next few weeks, we will be working through your fears: identifying them, dissecting them, and learning how to overcome them. Is this clear?"

"Yes," I say, nodding. Four motions for me to take a seat in the dentist's chair, and I do.

"I will be injecting you with a compound that sends your brain into a fear response. I will be monitoring both the situation you project and your response to it." He attaches electrodes to my chest and temple, then a heart rate monitor to my index finger. "Only you can make the situation end."

I watch him walk to the computer desk and retrieve a vial and syringe from the drawer. I feel my heart rate increase as he draws the liquid into the barrel of the syringe. The sound of the glass vial against the table as he sets it down startles me, and I already feel the panic set in. What is happening to me? My fears? What fears do I have? Why does Four get to know? When did I sign up for this mental torture? I'm drawn from my thoughts when Four sits next to me on a stool and holds my elbow. He taps at the veins in the crease of my arm before lining up the needle. Strangely, though, he pauses, looking up to me.

"Remember what I said," he whispers, before inserting the needle and depressing the plunger. Remember what you said? What did you say?

 _"It's like a nightmare. Be brave."_ I hear the words from my memory as if he's saying them again. It's my last thought before I find myself alone in a forest.

I haven't been in the woods since I lived with my parents. It's nighttime, and I can hear the faint hoot of owls and the too-close chirps of crickets all around me. Why am I in the woods? I'm not afraid of the woods. It doesn't take long for me to notice I'm barefoot, wearing only my pajamas.

I look around, turning in a circle. "Hello?" I call out. I get no response. What the hell is going on? I look to the sky, trying to find the north star so I can start walking. It only takes a moment and I start to walk north. The soil, sticks, and rocks underfoot are unpleasant, but certainly not something to be terrified of. What is my fear? I'm waiting for something to happen, for something to jump out and eat me, for a pool of quicksand to appear and swallow me, but nothing happens.

I must be walking for fifteen minutes before I realize I've passed the same bush three times. Looking to the sky, I see I'm still following the north star. I can't be walking in circles if I'm going in one direction. Something isn't adding up.

Then I hear the scream.

She's right behind me.

She _is_ me.

I'm watching myself be burned in a campfire, the tallest piece of wood in the teepee fire lay. I see my hair ignite, my skin blister, my face contort in pain. That's when I realize I don't just see it. I feel it. I am her, and she is me. We are burning.

I didn't know someone could be conscious through this much pain.

I feel my skin cook like a chicken, browning and crisping and shriveling. It feels so tight. I feel my blood begin boil. I see her eyes, no, my eyes cloud over through the smoke. I hear the screams again and I realize again they're mine. My throat is raw, my body is raw, I can't move, I can't move, _I can't move._

But then I can.

The harsh light in this underground room makes me squint, and I realize I'm no longer in pain. My eyes, clear once more, find Four's. I'm barely holding back tears. I just died for fuck's sake. At least I thought I did. I don't know how much longer I can hold myself together. Luckily for me, Four makes quick work of removing my monitoring devices.

"You did well. You showed good traits in exploring the unknown," he states matter-of-factly, not quite meeting my eyes.

"I did well?" I ask, my voice somewhere between searing rage and dry heaving. Four meets my eyes at this before turning to his computer and typing for a minute. He turns the monitor off before facing me again, motioning for me to get up.

"Wednesday, we'll reflect on your simulation," he says, opening the door for us. He doesn't speak again until we're off the elevator on a floor that's not mine. In a much softer voice, he asks, "Would you like to come have dinner with me? You can take some time before seeing everyone if you'd like."

I take a moment before answering, remembering Christina in Will's arms earlier today, Uriah and Zeke together throwing knives, and I think maybe I don't want to be alone. Does Four know I have no one? I nod my affirmation of dinner and we head to his apartment. Much like last time I was here, his hand finds my lower back as he guides me through the door. Four says nothing, just walks into the kitchen. I follow him in silence, not sure of what else to do.

"Are you alright?" he asks after pulling chicken out of the refrigerator. Whatever words I was expecting, these were the last ones.

"What do you think?" I spit out. I instantly see the regret in his eyes and it makes my own expression soften.

"I know, I'm sorry," he pauses. "How are you feeling?"

I watch him prepare the chicken breasts, removing the fat, adding seasoning, and pulling out a pan before I can answer. How am I feeling? I feel vulnerable. I feel like a turtle without a shell. I feel like a slug. I feel like a literal lump of mud, just squishy, and dirty, and pitiable. The popping of the oil in the pan pulls me from my thoughts.

"I feel vulnerable. And embarrassed," I finally respond.

"I did too my first time," he admits quietly. "Would you like some water?" I nod, accepting the glass. He hasn't talked about his time here as an initiate before. I wonder what's changed. He busies himself turning on the oven and filling a baking dish with pre-chopped frozen vegetables. I watch his back move as he adds the seared breasts into the baking dish and I see the muscles in his arms contract when puts the whole thing in the oven. I watch his tattoo dance above the collar of his shirt when he bends to set a timer on the oven.

I make myself turn away before I can be any further distracted by my instructor.

"We can sit if you like. We can talk about it." I follow him again to his couch and I feel his eyes on me. I can't bring myself to meet them.

"What was your fear?" I ask quietly, playing with my hands.

"My first was heights. I was trapped on the roof of a building."

"Your first? How many are there?"

"Well, that varies. Most people have ten to fifteen fears." That gets me to look at him.

"I have to do that fifteen times?" I ask, not able to keep my voice from sounding incredulous.

"Most. Some have less, some have more."

"How many do you have?"

"Four." he plainly states. He looks almost ashamed of that number.

"So that's where the name comes from?" I ask. He nods. We sit together in silence on the couch for a bit, but the shock from earlier has made me freezing cold.

"I'm sorry, but do you have a blanket?"

Four smiles and retrieves one from his bedroom, the dark grey comforter. The one that smells like him. My favorite blanket. He sits beside me, putting an arm around my shoulders as he pulls the blanket over me. Our eyes meet, and I feel the tears from earlier threatening to release. He pulls me gently into his side, my head resting between his shoulder and neck.

"It's okay to be vulnerable here. It's just me," he whispers into my ear. His hot breath feels nice, helps warm me. So I let myself be vulnerable. I let myself feel weak. Four holds me securely against him as I cry and continues to hold me even when the tears subside. I feel safe here, wrapped in his blanket and tucked into him on the couch. I pull my knees up to my chest and his head drops so his lips are on my head. I could stay here for a long time.

I feel those lips move against my head when he says, "Call me Tobias."

I pull away slightly to look at him. Tobias? It suits him. "Okay, Tobias." He gives me a new kind of smile, a wide, excited one before guiding my head back to his neck and replacing his on top of mine. I feel his fingers dance around on my shoulder, tracing paths. It's comforting. He's comforting.

The oven timer sounds and we're pulled from our huddle on the couch. As we disentangle, I feel the blush consuming my neck and face when I realize how intimate our contact was. I know I'm not mistaken when I see the same flush on his face before he turns to the kitchen.

What are we doing?


	12. Whispers

Christina and I don't get a chance to talk until Tuesday morning when we wake up, both of taking the opportunity to sleep in until nine that day. We get ready together in silence, still too emotionally drained from the previous day to make small talk just yet. It seems most of us had the same thought about deserving a lie-in, because a small group of our friends are just arriving at breakfast too. It isn't until we join them that we start to feel normal again.

"These moths just came from everywhere! It was awful!" Christina regales through both her laughter and the laughter of the rest of us. "Have you ever felt a moth in your nostril? It's literally the worst!" I hear Uriah's laughter above the others'. This stage in training, even after the first day, has brought the two groups of initiates closer together. We have Uriah, Marlene, and even Lynn sitting with us at breakfast today.

We all take turns talking about our fears, the silliness in them revealed by the inescapable laughter we all feel when explaining them. Not even I'm exempt.

"The girl - me - I was one of the sticks in the wood teepee, the little structure you build to make a fire." I see Will lean forward, he's laughing so hard. Al, sitting next to me, laughs and pats me on the back with his huge hand, and I cough-laugh, which just sounds absurd and pushes everyone on again.

For the first time, I can see myself here. Watching us come together, to overcome our fears, to help each other, this is why I signed up for the CIA. The comradery.

Most of us spend the rest of the day training again, taking turns sparring, running, or weight training. I remind myself I can't slack off here, I need to improve my fitness, so I do more training the next morning before my late-afternoon appointment with Four. With Tobias. By the time 3:50 rolls around and my alarm sounds, I'm tired, but I'm ready. I'm not able to get in the elevator we went down last time to get to the room, so I wait for him there. This must have been happening all day, so I don't let myself worry about it. At 3:55, the doors open, and I join Tobias in the small space.

I find myself suddenly very self-conscious and unable to meet his eyes after the intimacy of Monday. Nothing really happened, we ate the dinner he prepared and sat back on the couch, but that was it. Just sitting, not much talking. Well, not just sitting, I guess it was more leaning into each other and him holding me. But still. We sat together on a couch. So why do I feel so embarrassed right now?

The doors open when we've reached our floor and I let him exit first, recalling his distaste for small spaces. His fear. We walk together down the hall to the room and sit in our respective chairs. Now, we look at each other. I'm not sure what I'm going to find there, but I see no apprehension in his face, no regret, and no awkwardness. He seems... sure of himself. Confident. I wish I had that same confidence.

We talked about the fear I went through on Monday, how I'm not actually afraid of being burned alive in the woods, but more so afraid of the lack of control. I realized at breakfast I'm not afraid of being burned, but this talk helped me see what it really is I'm afraid of. We go through strategies to overcome my fear, how to regain control in situations where I have none, and before I know it I'm done for the day. We leave together, but unlike on Monday, I'm not falling apart at the seems.

We're heading toward the Pit when Tobias places his hand on my elbow, gently stopping me, and says, "Do you want to come over Friday?"

My mind is blank for a moment as he drops his hand. Why is he asking me to come over? Did I do something? I know I'm taking too long to respond when I see him drop his gaze from my eyes. We're interrupted then by Zeke and Uriah, presumably also going to dinner, yells, "Yo Four, Tris! Cake eating contest, five minutes, Uri thinks he can beat me!" Okay, definitely going to dinner. I grin, and Tobias just shakes his head.

I maintain eye contact with Tobias as I shout over to them, "I'm in." For the second time, I'm on the receiving end of his big, goofy smile, and I join up with Zeke and Uriah.

—

"And," Christina wheezes, clasping her hands to her chest, "and Uri's face," another wheeze, "when Zeke..." She's laughing so hard now that words can't even come out. Will and I are on the ground, not able to support ourselves through the tears and convulsions. Every time I glance over to Uriah my hysterics begin again. I think it's just me and Will who have noticed the frosting in Uriah's eyebrow.

"Yeah, yeah, you know, I thought y'all were supposed to be on my side," Uriah grumbles. No one pays him any mind.

It's times like these I feel like I've found my place. I can't imagine myself anywhere else. I've never had friends like these before, no friends to collapse into a fit of laughter with, no friends who pout with frosting in their eyebrow, no friends who make me as happy as I am right now. For the first time, I feel like I belong here.

—

When my appointment with Four rolls around on Friday afternoon, I'm ready. He hooks me up to the computer just like last time, but tells me we're going through the same fear so I can practice getting through it.

This time, I manage to keep myself a bit more calm, recalling the laughter of my friends when I told them about this fear as I walk to find the fire again. When I find her, me, I think about how absurd it is to see myself tied up into the fire. Someone must have had to tie me up there. It's still jarring to see your flesh burning off your bones, but the resemblance between me and the girl is swiftly gone as her features begin to char. It's easier to detach myself that way, picturing her as someone else I need to help. Four's advice was to focus on this aspect, that she's not me, and it must be good advice because I'm awake in the bright, sterile room before I know it. A pair of dark blue eyes greet me. Dark blue eyes that are crinkled at the edges, almost like the owner is grinning.

"Nice job, Tris," Tobias tells me. I sit up straight as I'm detached, returning a small smile. We don't talk until we part ways for dinner.

"So I'll see you later?" he asks, a light flush showing on his face. "Yeah, when should I come?" Now I feel my face starting to warm.

"How's seven?"

"I'll see you then."

Christina gives me a knowing look when I join her at dinner. How is that even possible? What does she know?

"Spill," she demands before I even take my seat. I may as well try and feign ignorance. "Spill what?" I ask, doing my best to look clueless.

"Tris..." Christina's warning tone tells me I need to say something.

"After dinner," I promise, blushing even more. Christina's wide grin tells me this isn't done. I swear, she barely chews her food to get us back to our room as quickly as possible. She won't even let me eat dessert.

A few short minutes later, to my disappointment, we've made it back to our room. Christina is perched on her bed with a pillow in her lap, grin plastered on her face, and is looking at me expectantly. There is no escaping her.

"Chris-" I start, covering my eyes in embarrassment. Next thing I know, her hands are on my shoulders, pulling me down onto the bed alongside her. Now there's no escaping.

"Okay! It's just, it's nothing. I'm just hanging out with a, a friend tonight. You and Will can be here this evening!" My attempt to distract her did not stick. They better teach me how to lie better if I'm going to be in the CIA.

"Bull. Shit. Who is he?" she asks. "Or she! No judgement!" Her excitement is contagious. How do I approach this? I want Christina to know, but I know this can't be okay in the CIA's eyes. I resign myself to telling her, just leaving out a few key details. Sure that would be okay?

"He," I say pointedly, "is a friend. I think. We're just hanging out tonight, we haven't talked much." There. That's not... untrue.

"A friend like the me type of friend or the fun type of friend?" she asks, elbowing me in the ribs repeatedly. I hide my face in my hands again, feeling the blush spread over me. I'll never get used to boy talk. I'm not answering. My silence propels her to continue. "Oooh, Tris! Is this like a friends-with-benefits thing or a flirty, in progress thing?"

"In progress," I mumble through my fingers. I get a shriek in return.

"We are going to make you look irresistible for your date tonight. When are you meeting him?" Christina practically leaps out of bed, heading for her makeup bag.

"No, no makeup! It's not a date! We're just hanging out. I was going to wear sweats and t- shirt." I add, trying to emphasize the casualness of tonight. Christina pauses with the makeup bag but looks me over head to toe.

"Fine," she starts, and my eyes light up thinking I won. The illusion of victory is short-lived when I hear her tell me about the perfect pair of leggings she has that I have to wear. I don't get what's so special about these leggings until I feel them, they're softer than any pair of pants I've felt, and then it's not too hard to convince me. I let her dress me in her leggings, my black v-neck t-shirt that shows off my tattoo, and one of my long cardigans. I even let her do my hair, pulling it out of its bun and straightening a few rogue pieces. It doesn't look like it's been styled, and Christina looks proud when I tell her. I feel comfortable, surprisingly, when she's through with me. I don't feel overdressed, I don't feel primped, I just feel like me.

I still have time to spare before meeting Tobias, but I can't stand any more of Christina's knowing smiles or interrogations, so I go for a walk around the compound, meandering through the halls in the vague direction of Tobias's place. When it's seven, I knock at his door, and he welcomes me in. I find myself disappointed that he didn't touch my back this time and I'm wondering if he's second guessing inviting me over.

"I'm glad you came," he admits. He sounds nervous too. I'm glad to see he's also in sweats and a t-shirt and I didn't let Christina talk me into something ridiculous.

"Thank you for inviting me, Tobias." His eyes light up at the sound of his name and the nerves are nowhere to be seen in his expression.

"You can sit if you like. Do you want anything to drink?" he asks, moving to his kitchen. He peers into the refrigerator before adding, "I have water, tea, beer, and Coke."

"I could go for a beer," I tell him, and he pulls two out of the fridge where I join him at the counter. I take a sip to buy time to figure out how to talk to him.

"So..." we both say together, and we both chuckle at the coincidence. I gesture to him to continue speaking.

"Do you want to watch a movie?"

"Hm... That depends, what are my options?" I ask flirtatiously. Flirtatiously? What the hell has gotten into me? Apparently nothing unwelcome, because Tobias smiles mischievously back at me. He grabs his computer and we look through the titles available to stream. One catches my eye immediately.

"Oh! This one!" I exclaim in excitement.

"Rocky IV? Seriously?"

"Yeah! What's wrong with Rocky?"

"He's a meathead, it just gets worse through the series."

"No he isn't! Watch it and tell me what makes him a meathead," I challenge Tobias. I've backed him into a corner now, but I really think he'll enjoy it. It's silly, but endearing. He gets the movie set up on the television, and I notice his grey comforter is already folded on the couch. I sit on the couch next to it, not quite cold enough to need it yet.

Tobias sits next to me, not touching, but close enough to make it a distraction. I don't think we shut up for more than two minutes throughout the entire movie. It's surprisingly easy, after we got over our initial nerves, to be around each other. The movie quickly turns into background noise for our conversations and, two hours later, neither of us notice when the movie turns off.

—

"I never asked about the birds. When did you get them?" Tobias asks me, tracing his finger along the line of birds below my collarbone. It feels like a line of fire across my chest and it takes me a moment to gather myself to answer.

"My first weekend here. It just seemed fitting," I respond.

"They suit you," he tells me quietly.

"I noticed you have one too," I say with rising inflection, trying to ask without asking about the tattoo I know is on his back. He rubs his neck at the mention, drawing my attention back to the only part of the tattoo I've seen.

"Yeah. It covers my back. I got it during my time in the training camp too," he offers up. "Would you, uh, would you like to see it?"

I don't trust myself to speak, so I nod. Turning so he's facing away from me, Tobias quickly pulls his shirt over his head. I have no words for what I'm seeing. Covering his back is an intricate, heavy, blackwork back piece. I see symbols that are vaguely familiar through the roots and trunk of a sprawling tree. The pieces I've seen before though are the tips of flames. The whole tree has been set on fire. It's incredible. I can't imagine the pain involved in receiving this or the time the artist put into it.

Hesitantly, I reach out to trace one particularly twisted branch. I pull it back when I hear his sharp intake of breath, but he tells me it's okay, so I touch him again, the same branch. I feel the rough, raised texture of his skin. What happened to Tobias?

"It's beautiful, Tobias," I whisper, withdrawing my hand. I sounds breathless. He turns back to face me, holding my gaze, and I'm at a loss for words. I reach out, taking his hand in mine, and hold it. I try and convey my understanding and empathy through my touch. I hope he understands. He pulls his hand from mine and I'm worried I did something wrong, but then I feel his hand cradling my face. I don't understand the emotion I see in his eyes then, but whatever it is intensifies when I place my own hand over his.

I feel his other hand reach for my waist and pull me gently toward him. I comply, turning my face to rest my cheek on his chest. The skin here is smooth, a stark contrast to his rough back. I let my fingers trace over his upper arms and back, marveling in the warmth and strength I find there. Not just the physical. I don't ask about the scars on his back and he doesn't volunteer the information. As my hands gently roam his body, he holds my neck and draws patterns on my back.

I feel dwarfed against his frame, his body engulfs mine. One of his hands feels like it's covering my entire back. It's a nice feeling, both comforting and exciting. Familiar and new. I smile and I know he must be able to feel it. He pulls away slightly, just to press a kiss to my forehead. His lips linger, and our eyes meet as he pulls away again. He returns quickly though, briefly touching his lips to the tip of my nose.

I try and fail to stifle my yawn, the day's activities catching up with me. Tobias smiles at me, standing and extending his hand to help me up. He doesn't bother putting his shirt on and I take the opportunity to admire his physique as he leads me to the door. We stand by the door unwilling and unable to end our evening together. I take his hand in mine, giving it another squeeze before lightly kissing his knuckles. He pulls me in tightly for another embrace and I reciprocate. My head doesn't even reach his armpits. It's the first time in a while I've been this close to a man, and there is no doubting Tobias is a man. It stirs something inside me, feeling him, all of him, against me.

"Tris... thank you," he whispers into my hair.

"You're welcome. I had a nice evening Tobias."

"Me too." I can hear the smile in his voice. Reluctantly, we pull apart and I head back to my room. There is no suppressing my smile as I make my way through the halls.


End file.
